Fix
by DarkNightMistress
Summary: Reid replaces one addiction with another.  Morgan swears that this time he won't stand idly by. Morgan/Reid pre-slash. Warning: Self-harm.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Characters are fictional and not a depiction of their portrayers._

_Summary: __Reid replaces one addiction with another. Morgan swears that this time he won't stand idly by._

_Pairing: Morgan/Reid pre-slash._

_Warning: Self-harm._

_Notes: Apologies for any OOC behavior. I have very limited knowledge of the FBI and the medical field._

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><p><strong>Fix<strong>

There was a silence among the members of the BAU that was prevalent through every case and every trauma that they faced, like a constant elephant in the room that couldn't be discussed. Derek Morgan had long wondered if that resistance stemmed from a respect for the privacy of co-workers, or from fear; fear of what might be learned, and fear of implying that one of their members couldn't take care of themselves.

He knew he himself was guilty of it. The night that the team had found Spencer Reid on his hands and knees in a cemetery, hunched over in the dirt next to the fallen body of Tobias Hankel, he had found himself frozen. Reid had trusted Hotch to find him, JJ was the one who blamed herself for his capture, and Gideon…well…Gideon was the closest thing Reid had to a father since he was a small child. Spencer had welcomed all three into his embrace while Derek stood silently on the sidelines, wanting nothing more than to enfold the young man – his pretty boy – in his arms and hold him until he was sure he was really flesh and blood.

While watching Reid's torture on a computer screen he had been unable to contain his rage, and wasn't ashamed to let the team see it. After Reid was found, it was like resetting a clock, and he felt himself bury his emotions again, not wanting to draw attention to himself or overwhelm the young man who was finally safe once more.

That was only the beginning. And that's what infuriated him. For so long after the kidnapping it was apparent that something was wrong with the doctor. They had learned at the hospital that Spencer had been injected with Dilaudid against his will, and that it was an extremely addictive drug. He swore up and down that he was fine, but no one believed him, not really.

No one said anything either. It was as though the topic was off limits. In retrospect, Morgan wanted to kick himself for not offering to help the kid when he could tell he needed it so badly…when Spencer was falling apart right before their eyes. He couldn't justify prying it out of him, though. After all, each and every one of them had their secrets. He wasn't exactly forthcoming about his history in Chicago with Carl Buford.

But at what point was it warranted to force someone to confess that they needed help?

He had watched from the sidelines once more, just as in the cemetery where Reid had been forced to dig his own grave, as the younger agent tread water, began to drown, and surfaced once more. He had asked again and again if Spencer needed to talk about anything, but didn't dare broach the real issue at hand. On the rare occasions that he found himself confided in, he was relieved to be able to impart advice.

In the end, Reid kicked the habit on his own and Morgan couldn't have been more proud of him.

He was also furious with himself.

When Jason Gideon left the BAU – the man that Reid looked up to more than anyone in his life – Morgan could see him crashing once more. It started small: Reid showing up a few minutes late to work…then 20 minutes…then a half hour. There were bags under his eyes that proved he wasn't sleeping, and he drank twice as much coffee as usual, if such a thing were even possible. His hands shook when he took notes in the briefing room. He tried to hide it, and when he caught Morgan looking at him over the conference table he shot him a look with narrowed hazel brown eyes.

The more Derek witnessed, the more he began to fear that Reid was sinking back into his addiction once more. Derek was convinced that Spencer had been clean for months. Then it all seemed to go dark again, and Derek was determined not to stand idly by this time and watch Spencer Reid go back down that path and self-destruct.

Every time he thought about Spencer he ignored the fact that his heart beat twice as fast, his palms sweat, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from where the young man sat at his desk in the pit, constantly bent over paperwork with his eyes narrowed in concentration.

He couldn't admit that he was falling in love with one of his coworkers. That was another secret he wasn't willing to reveal, not even to himself.

Not long after Gideon left, the team returned exhausted from a particularly brutal case on a beautiful, sunshine-warmed day – a sickening contrast to the bodies of the 4 little girls they had found dismembered in West Virginia.

Reid was withdrawn, Morgan noticed, and significantly more so than usual. While the others muttered around him about the case, he walked silently along with them, hanging back slightly with eyes downcast and hands in his pockets. Derek decided that he couldn't wait much longer to speak with him. It wasn't like these tough cases were going to get fewer and farther between, and without Gideon to lean on he could tell the kid was unraveling and fast. If he was back on the drugs, Derek wasn't going to let him face it alone – not this time.

As Reid made his way over to his desk, Morgan stepped in front of him slightly, blocking his path. "Reid," he said softly. "How about you and me grab a bite to eat tonight?"

Spencer regarded him through chestnut brown bangs that mingled with long lashes. "No thanks, Morgan," he said, his voice hollow. "After I'm done here I'm just going to go home and pass out."

"Come on, kid," Morgan prodded, desperate to get Reid alone so they could talk. "If not dinner, then how about just a drink. I definitely need one after today and I'll bet you do too."

Reid shifted uncomfortably where he stood, hands still resting in his pockets. "No…really. I'm really tired. Thanks for the invite, but I'll take a raincheck."

"Reid…" Morgan began to protest, but Spencer ignored him, dodging around the much larger man to reach his desk.

Derek reached out and grabbed Reid's forearm on his left side – he wasn't really thinking when he did it, but Spencer gasped out in pain and tugged away.

"Sorry," Derek murmured, watching as Spencer straightened the sleeve of his button down. "Didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's ok," Spencer said distractedly, and hurried over to his desk.

Morgan watched him go, his heart in his throat. It wasn't absolute proof, no, but if Spencer's arm hurt he couldn't help but think that it was because the kid was using again. And there was no way he was going to let it go, not this time. He was determined to help the younger agent, no matter how much Spencer resisted.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

All too often life gets in the way, derailing even your best intentions. The night that Morgan confronted Reid he stayed at the office later than normal, long after his case paperwork was filed with JJ, to try to catch the younger man on his way out. Spencer asked Hotch for a ride home rather than taking the train, and wouldn't so much as meet Morgan's eyes as the two men walked past him on their way to Hotch's car, leaving Morgan staring after them and grinding his teeth in frustration.

Clearly Reid knew that Morgan was trying to get him alone, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

The next day, another case surfaced and the team found themselves boarding a plane to Colorado to hunt down an unsub who was decapitating young men and keeping their heads. It was enough to make anyone's stomach turn, even Derek's, strong as he pretended to be. It never ceased to amaze him how many utterly disturbed people there were in the world. Sometimes he didn't blame Gideon at all for leaving, especially considering how many years he had spent in the thick of this job.

Reid managed to sit as far away from Morgan as possible on the plane. When they buddied up for rooms he requested Hotch right away, leaving Morgan to pair off with Rossi. He wouldn't meet Morgan's eyes over the paperwork at the local police station or during meals, never stood too close or spoke to him directly about the case. Reid was never a particularly social person so it didn't seem as though the rest of the team thought much of his behavior, or even noticed it at all.

Morgan couldn't help but wonder if the others had the same suspicions he did. If so, he certainly couldn't tell by looking at them and, concerned as he was, he didn't feel it right to voice his opinion to anyone else, especially when he wasn't a hundred percent positive about what was going on. He didn't need to involve the rest of the team in speculation and give Reid a reason to alienate himself from everyone further.

Three days after they arrived in Colorado, Garcia was able to help track the unsub to a remote location in the forests on the outskirts of a small town. When they arrived to surround the place, a ramshackle cabin nestled deep in the trees, Morgan felt his mouth go dry. His eyes flicked over to Reid, but the young man seemed steady enough, brow furrowed and gun drawn as the team circled the place.

They found the unsub inside with his latest victim, a young man in his mid-twenties with a slim build and light brown hair who was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. The situation was so eerily familiar to the Tobias Hankel case that Morgan was sure he wasn't the only one who felt it.

He forced himself to remain professional. There was someone's life on the line and it wasn't Reid's – not right now. Rossi and Hotch took down the unsub while Morgan and Prenteiss freed the young man from his restraints. He was beaten and bleeding, and Morgan helped him hobble outside to the waiting ambulance.

As he passed Reid who was hovering in the doorway he could see that the young agent's face was pale and his mouth was set in a thin line. He wanted so much to lend his comfort, but now was not the time, nor the place. Yet again he had to wait.

Reid didn't join them for dinner that night, opting instead to go back to the hotel and go to bed early.

Derek couldn't wait to get back to Quantico where he could get Reid away from the rest of the team and speak to him alone. Again, Spencer sat far away from him on the plane, quiet and withdrawn, not speaking to anyone. He caught a cab at the airport, promising JJ he would file his paperwork the next day, and he was gone before Derek had the chance to say one word to him.

The kid was a pro at evasion, that was for damn sure.

The next day Spencer was over an hour late to work. Sitting there in the pit, waiting for him to arrive, Morgan felt his heart beating double time in his chest. Clearly he was being more obvious than he intended to be, because JJ stopped by his desk and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?"

Morgan looked up into her concerned face. As far as he knew, she was the closest friend Reid had on the team. That still didn't mean he had confided in her. "Yeah…yeah I'm fine. Just wondering where Reid is. Have you heard from him?"

JJ shook her head. "No…I know Hotch tried calling him about half an hour ago but he didn't answer." That did absolutely nothing to relieve Morgan's fears and he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and linking his hands over his head.

JJ sat down next to him and lowered her voice. "You're worried about him…aren't you?"

"Yes…I am. That case in Colorado…didn't that strike you as a little too familiar? I'm sure it did to Reid."

She nodded. "Creeped me the Hell out," she admitted. "Couldn't wait to get out of there. At least we saved the victim and the unsub is in custody."

"Yes, it had a relatively happy ending, but I'm sure all Reid saw when he looked at that kid tied to the chair was a mirror image of himself in Tobias Hankel's cabin." He sighed. "And with Gideon gone I don't think he's been confiding in anyone."

"He hasn't spoken to me," JJ said. She ran a hand through her blond locks and sighed. "Look, I'm sure he's going to be in soon, and Hotch is going to go easy on him…we all saw the similarities with that case and we all know it had to have hit him hard."

And yet again no one had spoken to the kid about it. Just left him to deal with it on his own. Wonderful. Morgan was pissed at himself for not trying harder. He could have followed the kid back to his hotel the last night in Colorado. He could have insisted on sharing a cab from the airport yesterday.

As he gave himself another mental beating he saw Reid open the door, walking in long quick strides towards his desk. He was wearing his typical button down shirt and tie, his hair messy and his eyes heavy lidded as though yet again he hadn't gotten much sleep. He tossed his bag down and sunk into his chair, picking up the phone on his desk.

"Hotch?" Morgan heard him say quietly. "I'm so sorry I'm late. Overslept. Yeah. Yeah, I know. I promise it won't happen again."

He set the phone back down on its cradle and seemed to notice the two pairs of eyes on him. He looked up sharply at Morgan and JJ. "What?" he demanded, his voice sharp in a way that made Derek's blood run cold.

JJ shook her head. "Just checking on Morgan's paperwork. I need yours too. Make sure you turn it in by the end of the day." Her cheeks were burning as though she'd been caught, and she hurriedly stood up and walked back to her office.

Reid turned his gaze to Morgan, his eyes narrowed. "Just wanted to make sure you're ok," he said by way of explanation. "Was worried when you were late this morning."

"Yeah…well…I'm fine." He turned his attention to his computer screen, ending the conversation.

Derek somehow made it through the rest of the day, which seemed to go at a glacial pace. He looked at the clock every five minutes, suffered through two meetings and three conference calls, finished his paperwork from Colorado, and made damn sure he was still there long after his work was done, waiting for Reid to leave.

It was close to nine and the BAU was almost deserted when JJ walked out of her office and into the pit. "Hey guys," she said. "It's getting late. You taking off soon?"

"Yeah," Reid said, not looking up from his computer. "Just wanted to finish up a few more things here…"

"Well if you're ready to go I'd be happy to drop you off on my way home." Reid looked up, saw Morgan staring at him, and hurriedly accepted her offer. "Yeah…thanks. That would be great." He started to shut down his computer and gather his files.

No way Morgan was letting this opportunity pass him by. He'd be damned if he didn't get Reid alone tonight.

"I'm on my way out too," he chimed in, standing up and joining the other two as they made their way to the door. "And I live closer to you than JJ does. How about I give you a ride home instead."

He shot JJ a look and she could clearly read the expression on his face. "Yes…" she said. "That's not a bad idea. Besides I have to stop by the grocery store and I need to get home…"

They were in the parking lot by now and Reid looked more than a little uncomfortable. "Nah…it's ok. I don't want to trouble you. I'll just take the train."

"It's no trouble," Morgan promised him.

"Night guys," JJ said, choosing to excuse herself from the conversation. She hurried towards her car, leaving the two men alone in the parking light under the orange glow of the street lamps.

They stood facing each other, both undoubtedly knowing it was a contest of wills. A contest Morgan was determined to win. "I'm giving you a ride home," he said with finality.

Spencer's expression went dark. "Really…it's fine. I can just take the train. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned to walk away.

"Spencer," Morgan growled, almost surprised by the warning tone of his voice.

The young man stopped in his tracks, turning back slowly.

"I know something is going on with you," Morgan said. "I _know_ and I'm not going to stop asking about it just because you pretend everything's fine. Gideon's gone, we've had some tough as Hell cases lately, and I'm sure Colorado stirred up some unpleasant memories."

Spencer said nothing, his lips pressed together tight.

"Now get in the car," Morgan said, pointing. "And let me take you home. I'm not giving you another option."

Spencer hesitated for a moment before his shoulders finally sagged in defeat. He slowly made his way over and the two men climbed into the car. He slumped in the passenger seat, his arms folded tight across his chest, and rested his forehead on the windowpane. He refused to look in Morgan's direction.

Derek chose to wait a few moments until they were on the road before he spoke again. It was starting to drizzle and he turned on the windshield wipers to their lowest setting, the gentle scrape against the windshield the only sound in the car. He chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering the best way to broach this topic.

There was no good way.

"What's going on with you?" he said quietly, doing his best to keep his voice even.

Spencer didn't even turn to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me, kid. I'm a profiler, same as you, and I'm not falling for it. Now…tell me what's going on or I'm perfectly happy to drive to California and back if that's how long it's going to take for you to open up to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Stop lying."

"You don't need to worry about me."

"Are you using again?"

Silence.

The question hung heavy in the air, and all Morgan could hear was the pounding of blood in his ears as he waited for Spencer's response. There was no going back now.

Spencer did turn to look at him this time. "No," he said, his voice low. "I'm not using again. And if I _was_, what business would it be of yours? I got clean all on my own."

It was Morgan's turn to be silent. That hurt.

"I know," he said quietly, his eyes narrowed on the road before him. In his mind's eye he saw Spencer's arm riddled with track marks, the way it looked in the hospital after he had been rescued. He wondered if that's how it looked now. "I…I should have been there for you."

"I didn't need anyone to be there for me. I've been taking care of myself since my dad walked out, remember?" His voice was like acid, and it stung.

"That doesn't mean you should have to," Morgan countered. "I wasn't there for you last time, and I hate myself for that. But I am _not_ making that mistake again. I care about you kid, you have to believe that."

He didn't dare admit how much. Spencer definitely wouldn't be able to handle that knowledge right now.

"It's…it's not your problem," Spencer said, his voice calmer again. He sounded full of regret, as though he felt guilty for not letting Morgan help him. "It's nothing I can't handle on my own. Look, I know I've been screwing up lately…coming in late to work. I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all. It's nothing new."

"That's not all it is," Morgan said. They were pulling into the lot of Spencer's apartment building and he realized he was running out of time. Although he wasn't above locking the doors to keep the kid in the car…

"I'm not stupid. You're acting the way you did after we got you back from Tobias. Only this time Gideon isn't here. I can't believe that no one else sees it, but no one is saying anything. Well, that's not going to work for me anymore. I'm not going to let you go through this alone. I'm not." He pulled into a parking space in front of Spencer's building and the kid hurriedly unfastened his seat belt and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh.

"I _promise_ you, it's nothing." He said. "I don't need anyone's help. I can take care of myself. I don't…I don't _want _your help, ok?"

"No, it's not ok."

Spencer turned and glared at him, his pale cheeks burning with anger. "It's. My. Business," he hissed, carefully enunciating each word. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't talk to the rest of the team about me behind my back."

"I haven't been," he promised. "And I swear I won't say anything. Whatever you tell me will be between us. You can trust me." Silence. "Please…Spencer…_trust me_."

His gaze blazed with anger and he stared at Morgan for a moment. Then, something shifted and his face softened, a stricken look entering his eyes that made Derek think he had succeeded in taking a chink out of the kid's armor that he had been building around himself since he was about five years old and learned that it was pointless to trust in anyone.

Just like that, the look was gone and he turned to get out of the car. "Goodnight, Morgan."

It wasn't ending like this.

Without a conscious thought, Morgan reached out and grabbed Reid's upper arm with one hand, holding him in a vice like grip. With the other he tore at the cuff of his sleeve, popping the button and dragging the material up and over his elbow.

"What the Hell are you doing?" Spencer exclaimed, trying to scramble back out of his grasp, only succeeding in throwing himself against the car door.

It was too late.

Morgan looked at Reid's arm. The arm where he expected to see the tell-tale track marks of drug abuse. His mouth went dry as he stared, tears burning behind his eyes.

Spencer's forearm was a mess of cuts, slices, scars, scabs, newly healed flesh and bloody lines that seemed to scream out at him. There had to be at least 25 marks that marred his perfect creamy skin. He was half-aware of Spencer still trying to pull free from his grip, but all he could do was stare. Most were horizontal lines across his arm, some intersected with others, none were deep enough to cause major blood loss but he could tell that they were in varying degrees of the healing process. He imagined that the other arm looked very much the same.

He finally found the strength to look into Spencer's eyes, and saw the glisten of tears that the younger man was trying to hide.

"How long has this been going on?" Morgan asked quietly, trying to keep his voice steady.

He could see Spencer swallow hard. He licked his lips. "Forever," he said, his voice barely audible. "Since I was little. I stopped for a long time. But after Gideon left…" he snapped his mouth shut as though realizing he had revealed too much and had to stop himself. "It's fine," he said suddenly. "I'm fine."

He tugged his arm out of Morgan's grasp and flinched as the other man's fingers slid against the cuts. He hurriedly rolled his sleeve back down and grabbed his tote bag from the floor.

"You're _not_ fine," Morgan growled.

Spencer turned on him. "Stay the Hell out of my business, Morgan," he hissed with a viciousness Derek had never heard him use before. He almost sat back in shock. He was completely frozen.

"You need help," he managed.

"I don't need _anything _from you." He opened the door and got out.

"You need help!" Morgan called after him.

"Leave me the _fuck _alone!" Spencer shouted. He slammed the door and took off towards the steps of his building.

Go after him. Go after him. Go after him.

Morgan sat like a statue in his seat. He gripped the steering wheel with trembling hands. That was not what he was expecting. That was not… Oh, God. Reid. His pretty boy.

He wanted to break down crying.

Instead he put the car in reverse and peeled out of the parking lot.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Warning: This chapter contains self-harm._

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><p>He drove in circles for over an hour.<p>

The rain started again, harder this time, and mist billowed up from the pavement fogging the windows. He peered through the slashing movement of the wipers into the golden glow of his headlight beams, but with the flash of every car that past him by all he could see was Reid.

His pretty boy's arm marred by his own hand. The look in his eyes as he went from guilt, to fear, to fury. The anger on his face as he had screamed at Morgan before running away. And Morgan had been in so much shock he hadn't known what to do.

He had been expecting a drug addiction and what he found was an addiction of a different kind.

He should have gone after him, he knew that, but he had only run in the other direction, proving himself to be nothing more than a coward. He had promised Reid his help and then turned tail at the first test, only because Reid had insisted he didn't need him.

Well, Morgan wasn't going to take that as an answer, even if he didn't know what the Hell he was up against. He wasn't going to let Reid face this alone.

His mind made up, he slammed on the breaks and pulled a U-turn in the middle of a two-lane street, tires screeching as he shot back in the other direction towards Reid's apartment. His thoughts had been chasing each other round and round since Reid had run away from him, and now that his mind was made up there was no going back. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

He pulled back into the exact same spot he had occupied before and killed the engine, throwing open the door and slamming it behind him as he ran towards the door of Reid's building. Luckily for him, an old man was just coming outside to walk his dog and Morgan was allowed to enter without the warning of buzzing up. He was certain Reid would be none to pleased to hear from him.

He took the stairs two at a time, and when he arrived on the fourth floor he jogged down the hall to Reid's apartment, promptly pounding on the door. "Reid?" he called. "Reid, it's Morgan! Open up!" He listened hard for any sound of movement behind the door, but when he heard none after a few seconds he pounded again. "Reid! Come on, kid, I know you're in there. Let me in!" Entirely possible Spencer was ignoring him, but he wasn't going to allow that.

Again there was no response, and Morgan fished his cell phone out of his pocket, flipping it open and hitting Reid's number. _"You have reached the voicemail of Dr. Spencer Reid…"_ It hadn't even rung. He snapped the phone shut again and banged on the door with the side of his fist.

"Reid!" He was aware that he was probably waking up the neighbors on either side, but he only felt vaguely bad about it. He couldn't imagine that Reid was sleeping through this, small as his apartment was.

The thought made a sudden rush of adrenaline jolt through his body, setting his heart to beating double time. He swallowed hard, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. "Reid?" he called again, even louder this time, as he continued to hammer away at the door. "Reid!"

Still nothing.

Okay, Morgan was officially panicking now, and enough was enough. He lifted his foot and slammed it against the door, breaking the lock and throwing it open with a bang. He stepped inside and shut it hard behind him. "Reid?"

The living room and kitchen were almost completely dark other than the pale glow of a small lamp on an end table, a testimony to Reid's fear of the dark, and the flash of lightning outside. The storm was picking up further and thunder rumbled in the distance, growing ever closer.

The only thing that Morgan could make out were the shelves upon shelves and piles upon piles of books that covered every flat surface, half of the couch, one of the arm chairs, and were stacked in several places on the floor. Morgan had been to Spencer's place a few times before, and it seemed like whenever he was there the number of books had multiplied.

He gazed down the darkened hall before him and made out the golden outline of light seeping through a door frame. Every other light in the apartment was off. He started forward with a lump in his throat, the flashes of lightning showing his way. "Reid?" he called, and as the silence continued he felt the knot of fear in his stomach begin to grow. Oh, God, why hadn't he gone after him? Why had he run away after promising to help? Why had he left the kid alone?

He reached the door – the bathroom, he knew – and knocked lightly. "Reid?" he spoke more quietly now, trying not to frighten the young man. Spencer still didn't reply, but he stood quietly for a moment and from behind the door he thought he could make out the sound of hitched breathing.

"Reid," he said again. "I'm coming in, kid."

The doorknob turned easily in his hand, and he was glad that there was no need to break down another door. In the back of his mind he was shocked as Hell that there had been no commotion from the neighbors after he had busted through the front of Reid's apartment. Really not a great display of neighborly concern.

"Reid?" Morgan said softly as he pushed the door open and stepped into the bathroom beyond.

The first thing he saw was the blood splattered across the white tile floor, so much more horrifying to him than any crime scene he had witnessed. He felt the wind knocked out of him as though someone had punched him in the gut and he nearly staggered on his feet.

Then he looked up and saw Spencer's slight form huddled in the corner by the bathtub, his pajama clad legs pulled up to his bare chest. In front of him he held his left forearm clutched in his opposite hand, a pile of tissues futilely attempting to staunch the flow of blood. His entire forearm and the fingers of his right hand were red with it, along with a smear across his chest from where he held the injured limb tight against him.

Spencer looked up slowly, as though he had been completely unaware of Morgan pounding on the door and calling his name, and was only now realizing his presence. His hazel eyes gazed up at him, owlish and hollow, and Morgan had no doubt he was in shock. His face was white as a sheet and tear tracks made their way down his cheeks. There was a smudge of blood on his chin.

"Morgan?" he said softly, as though suddenly gaining recognition.

Derek felt his eyes burn and he dropped to his knees before the younger man, his strength draining from him in an instant. He felt like he was in shock as well. He may as well have been. He studied the young man's face and lifted his hand, tucking a lock of soft chestnut hair behind Spencer's ear. "Let me see your arm, baby," he whispered.

"Morgan?" Reid said again, a line of tension appearing between his brows. His eyes watered with tears. "I-I didn't mean to," he murmured. "It was an accident. I-I didn't realize…"

"Shhh…show me your arm."

"It-it was an accident." His voice was growing high with desperation. "I'm sorry, Morgan. I-I'm sorry…"

Slowly Morgan captured Spencer's left arm in his hands and pulled it gently away from the boy's chest, turning it over and removing the pile of bloody tissues. He felt his stomach turn.

"Spencer," he whispered, his voice breaking with anguish. "Baby boy, what have you done?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_Warning: This chapter contains self-harm._

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><p>Derek couldn't remember how many times he had investigated a crime scene covered in the blood of a victim who had died or been gravely injured. He never became truly desensitized to it over the years – he would have worried if he had. Perhaps Gideon had realized he had come too close to losing that part of his humanity when he made the decision to leave the BAU. No two crime scenes were exactly the same, no two patterns of spilled blood matched, but each and every one of them held unimaginable horrors that chipped away at a person's faith in the world little by little.<p>

No matter how much Derek had been subjected to during his time with the FBI, no matter how many disturbing crime scenes he had witnessed, the droplets of Spencer Reid's blood splashed across the bathroom tiles were the most gut-wrenching sight he had ever seen.

The cut along the inside of the boy's arm ran from elbow to mid forearm, thankfully tapering off before it reached the veins of his wrist; not as deep as he had originally feared but still trickling a steady stream of blood. Derek had to believe the young man's hysterical rambling – that he hadn't meant to hurt himself this badly – because the other option was too much for him to bear.

He remembered reading somewhere that a person who self-injured was not likely to commit suicide in the same manner as they inflicted their wounds. He hoped that was true, because if Spencer was only alive now because he had changed his mind halfway through slicing his arm open, there was a lot more to worry about than he feared.

Derek pulled a pristine white hand towel off the rack above Spencer's head and wrapped it around the boy's arm, holding it tightly in place. The younger man watched with wide eyes as his arm was tended to, as though in a trance, like he wasn't in his body but watching everything from above.

"Spence," Derek said gently. He held onto the boy's arm with one hand and with the other he gently tilted Spencer's chin up so that he could meet his eyes. "I don't know if I can stop the bleeding on my own. We need to get you to a hospital."

Spencer's already pale face blanched and he shook his head, launching himself backwards against the side of the tub so hard Derek cringed. His body was trembling uncontrollably. "N-no. No, Derek, please. I told you, it was an accident," his voice was becoming high with tension and his eyes were agonized. "P-please don't take me to a hospital. I didn't mean to do it. I s-swear. It was an accident!" Tears glistened on his lash line and Derek cupped the young man's cheek in his hand, keeping his gaze fixed on him.

He ignored the fact that his heart was breaking in his chest and managed to somehow keep his voice steady. "I believe you, Spencer," he said. "I know you didn't mean to hurt yourself this badly. But that has nothing to do with it. This is a lot of blood…"

"They'll ask questions," Spencer leaned forward, cutting Derek off with a harsh whisper. "They'll see my medical history – my mom's condition. They'll want to keep me there."

"Shhh…" Derek ran his hand through Spencer's tangled hair, gently unknotting the chestnut locks. "No one is going to keep you anywhere you don't want to be."

Spencer blinked and the tears spilled from his eyes. "They will," he said quietly. "They'll ask me questions. They'll want to keep me there. P-please don't take me to the hospital, Derek. Please. I don't want to go."

"I know you don't, baby, but we may not have a choice."

Spencer was shaking so hard his entire body was almost convulsing with fear. "Derek, please," his voice was breaking. "Derek, please…"

He could feel the war inside himself. The promise he had made to help Spencer no matter what he needed, even if he didn't know the best thing for himself…and the other side; the side that loved this young man and couldn't bear to see him hurting, physically or emotionally. He couldn't stand watching Spencer come unraveled like this, the abject fear in his eyes the likes of which he had never seen before.

He let out a long sigh. "Spencer," he said softly. "I'm going to try to stop the bleeding, okay? I promise you I will do everything I can, but I'm not a doctor. If this doesn't work I'm taking you to the hospital and you're not going to argue with me about it. Your health matters more than anything else, understand? And I'm not going to risk it."

Spencer nodded slowly, his cheeks wet with tears.

Derek took the kid's right hand in his own and placed it over the towel compress, folding his fingers around his own arm. "You have a first aid kit in the house?"

Spencer nodded, "It's in the linen closet at the end of the hall."

"Ok. I want you to keep pressure on your arm while I go find it. And don't you dare move from that spot."

Spencer nodded again, determined to obey as long as it meant he wasn't going to be taken to the hospital. Once Derek was satisfied that the younger agent was keeping enough pressure on his arm he got to his feet and went into the hall. As he perused the closet and found a rather large first aid kit on the top shelf, he wondered why Spencer hadn't bothered to tend to his own wound other than with an ineffectual handful of tissues. The answer was crushing but simple enough, he supposed. Spencer had been in shock and hadn't been able to take care of himself, even if he had wanted to. Which left an icy cold feeling in Derek's heart as he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't found the strength to turn around and come back; if he hadn't decided to defy Spencer's wishes.

He carried the first aid kit back into the bathroom, promising himself that if he couldn't take care of Spencer on his own he sure as Hell was going to defy the kid's wishes for the second time that night.

He opened the box and removed bandages, gauze and medical tape, wondering how Spencer had accumulated so many medical supplies and if he had indeed patched up his own wounds in the past. It was not a comforting thought but he pushed it away, trying to keep his expression neutral. He pulled down a washcloth from the rack on the wall and soaked it in soap and water, then knelt by the younger man and coaxed the boy's hand away from his bloody arm. There were a couple other marks that were fresh, not nearly as deep, and Derek could tell that Spencer had worked his way up to that final cut.

He pictured the kid sitting on the floor of his bathroom, in his dark apartment, tears running down his cheeks as he dragged a blade over his arm, and wanted to throw up.

As he worked, carefully cleaning the wound then patting it dry, he could feel Spencer's eyes on him. The young agent wasn't watching the progress on his arm; he was watching Derek's face as he concentrated on patching him up. It was almost disconcerting but he didn't ask Spencer what he was thinking, much as he wanted to know.

He wrapped the injured arm carefully, making sure the bandages and gauze were tight and secure, hoping that it would be enough to stop the bleeding, because he really wasn't relishing the thought of dragging a hysterical Spencer to the hospital against his will.

When he was done, he took the second washcloth from the towel rack and ran it under warm water, kneeling before Spencer once more to clean the blood from him. He could have told the kid to do it himself, he supposed, but there was still such a look of shock on his face that Derek wasn't sure how much he was capable of doing on his own.

He wiped the smear of blood from Spencer's chin, then the streak of red across his too-thin chest, then from his right hand that he had used to hold the wound closed. The entire time Spencer didn't change expression and didn't stop looking at him with glittering hazel eyes. He hated that the kid wasn't spouting off random facts and statistics, was sitting there so quietly he could have been a statue. He missed the know-it-all Spencer who drove Derek crazy with what he considered trivial information.

When Derek was finally finished cleaning the blood from Spencer's body and had washed the sticky redness from his own hands, he let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for the last 15 minutes…or maybe for the past several days. "Do you feel light headed at all?" he asked. Spencer shook his head. "Let's get you up then." He held out his hands and the young man took them, allowing himself to be helped to his feet. Derek wasn't sure how long Spencer had been sitting in the corner of the bathroom, but he seemed shakier just from the effort of standing, and he wrapped an arm around the younger man's waist to keep him upright.

As they turned to leave the bathroom Derek saw a glint of silver in the corner by the tub, near where Spencer had been sitting, and he recognized the object as the razor blade that the young man must have used to slice up his arm. He forced himself to look away, and half-carried Spencer to the living room where he deposited him on the book-free corner of the couch. "I'll get you some water," he said, and didn't wait for a response before walking into the kitchen and out of sight.

As soon as he was there he flipped on the light switch and then walked over to the counter, leaning heavily on his hands. He took several deep breaths, reminding himself to be strong, and then fished his cell phone out of his pocket. He rummaged in the cabinets for a glass as he dialed.

"Hotch." He sounded exhausted, which made sense considering it was around midnight.

"Hey, it's Morgan. Sorry to bother you." He found a water glass and opened the fridge, pulling out a Brita.

"What's going on?" Morgan could tell that his superior was instantly awake. He was uncannily attuned to when something was wrong, as they all were.

"I need to take a personal day tomorrow, if that's ok with you. And, uh, I'm calling Reid out too."

A beat. "You guys okay?"

"Yeah. Reid's not feeling too well so I promised I'd stay with him. I think he just needs a day to recover." That was a blatant lie. There was no way the kid was going to recover from this – any of this – in one day. But he couldn't come right out and say what was going on without compromising Spencer's trust in him.

Another short pause and Morgan had the feeling that he didn't have to bother hiding anything because Hotch wasn't an idiot and clearly knew something more serious was going on. "Got it. Not to worry. And if you need more time, just let me know."

Derek puffed out a breath of relief. "Thank you." He said. "Tell the team…I dunno, tell them Reid's sick and I'm out of town or something."

"Don't worry…I'll come up with a convincing cover story."

"JJ…well…she's close to Spence and she knows something's wrong. If she wants to talk about it have her call me, okay?"

"No problem. And Morgan?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of him."

"I will." Derek closed his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket, realizing that he was right and even if the team didn't know exactly what was going on, if they didn't suspect Spencer was back on drugs, everyone was at least aware that something was up. It almost made him angry, because no one was actually doing anything about it.

But then he remembered that _he_ was doing something about it, and he wasn't going to let Spencer face this alone.

He flipped off the lights and walked back into the living room with the glass of water. "Kid?" When he didn't see Spencer immediately, he walked over to the couch and found the younger man had laid down and curled up on himself, eyes closed and tear-spiked lashes laying against his cheeks.

Derek set the water down on the coffee table and pulled an afghan off of one of the arm chairs, draping it over Spencer's lanky frame. He stood there a moment, watching the rise and fall of the kid's chest, just thankful that he had gotten there in time and that his pretty boy was safe.

Then he returned to the bathroom to clean up the evidence of what was easily one of the worst nights of his life.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_Warning: This chapter contains discussion of self-harm._

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><p>"No…no I don't want it. I don't want it. No…no please. Please stop…stop. I don't want it! I don't want it! Derek! No! No no no! Derek, help me!"<p>

He jolted upright in the armchair with a gasp, running a hand absently over his face. The blaze of the clock under the small TV said it was 3:15…he hadn't even been asleep for 2 hours.

"Derek…Derek help…Derek help!"

The kid was thrashing around on the sofa, tangled in the afghan, crying out hysterically. Derek launched himself from his make-shift bed and knelt beside the couch, taking Spencer's face gently in his hands. "Spencer? Spencer, wake up."

"No…no…" his face was contorted in agony and his hands found his way to Derek's, long fingers trying to tug away his grasp. "I don't want it…I don't want it…"

"Shhh…" Derek kept his voice low even though he was terrified the young man was going to hurt himself. He tried to avoid the injured arm as he coaxed him to wake up. "Shhh…Spencer, it's a dream, kiddo. It's just a dream."

Tears began to fall down the young man's cheeks, running into his hair, and he stopped trying to pull away from Derek, instead holding hard and fast to his wrists. "Derek help me…"

"I'm right here, baby boy. I'm right here. I've got you. Open your eyes." Derek smoothed his thumbs over the boy's cheeks as terror gripped him. This seemed like so much more than just a nightmare…like Spencer was caught in a terrible delusion that he couldn't tear himself out of.

What had he been thinking? He couldn't do this by himself…couldn't take care of Spencer the way he needed. Thinking otherwise had been nothing more than selfishness.

"Derek…Derek…"

"Come on, baby, wake up now. Everything's ok, I've got you." Was Spencer crying his name because he knew that Derek was there or, worse, was this a recurrence that had been going on even when the kid was alone? The possibility made him feel agonizingly guilty. "Spencer, you're safe. Open you're eyes. You're safe." He had to keep himself from shaking the younger man in frustration.

Suddenly Spencer took a gasping breath and launched himself upward, sending Derek sitting back fast on his heels. The kid put both hands to his head, and buried his face in them as he choked down air, struggling to calm his breathing. Derek clamored to his feet and pulled himself up onto the couch, pushing books out of the way.

He reached out to put his hands on Spencer's arms and found them trembling. "You're ok," he said. "You're ok now."

Spencer ran his hands over his hair and stared at his knees that were pulled up in front of him.

"It was Tobias," he gasped out, his voice shaking. "He was here. He was here, in my apartment."

Derek rubbed his hands up and down the too-thin arms. "Shhh…it was just a dream."

"It was so real…" his eyes were glassy and unfocused. "It was so real…" he trailed off and Derek watched as his tongue darted out to lick dry, cracked lips. Spencer's face had always been thin and angular – beautiful, Derek thought – but now he appeared gaunt with eyes surrounded by darkness and sunken cheeks. It was as though he was being haunted. Derek didn't even want to know how much – or how little – sleep he had been getting a night since Gideon left.

Spencer's eyes snapped up and were suddenly on him. He stared at him beneath the sweep of dark lashes. "You're still here…" he murmured. It could have been a question – Derek couldn't tell. Either way, he sounded surprised.

"I'm still here," he agreed with a nod. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't have to stay."

"I want to."

He looked down to where Spencer's arms were now encircling his knees and tried see if there was any evidence of blood leaking through the bindings. It seemed ok, although he was certainly going to check the wound and redress it in the morning.

"How often do you have these dreams?" Derek asked. "These dreams about Tobias."

Spencer shrugged. "I don't know."

Well that was a lie, he could tell. He was willing to bet that Spencer was plagued by nightmares every night. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A fierce shake of the young man's head was the only response.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" he asked the boy softly.

Spencer stared at his knees once more. "I need to use the bathroom." He climbed to his feet and dropped the afghan on an arm of the couch, Derek watching as he shuffled down the hall. A moment later he could hear a door shut and he took a deep breath, leaning back against the couch cushions.

He could do this…he could do this…

Derek wished that he was more sensitive, more soothing to be around. That's what the kid needed…someone he could open up to…someone like JJ or Garcia, or even Prentiss, hard-ass though she sometimes was. Actually, what the kid _really_ needed was a goddamn therapist to talk to, and sooner or later that was a conversation they were going to have to have. Yet again, Spencer was probably going to be pissed as Hell at him, but as much as Derek thought JJ or Garcia might be a better choice to take care of the young agent, he certainly didn't want to subject them to the rage that would surely come with it.

Plus Derek was selfish. He _was_. He had to admit that much to himself. He wanted to be the one here, wanted to be the one to take care of Spencer, wanted to be the one who the kid turned to when he needed someone to lean on. That was something else that was going to have to be admitted and discussed sooner or later…Derek had feelings for the younger man that he wasn't going to be able to ignore much longer. But how was he supposed to broach at topic like that?

There was a crash.

Derek leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the bathroom like a bat out of Hell. "Spencer?" he didn't bother keeping his voice low this time, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no response. "Spencer!"

He tried the doorknob, but found it locked. He pounded his fist on the door, growing more terrified by the second. "Spencer open the door! Are you ok?"

He grabbed the doorknob again and jiggled it. He wanted to break the door down but he was afraid the kid was just on the other side. "Spencer!"

"What did you do with them?" the voice from inside the bathroom was ragged…and enraged.

"What? Spencer, let me in!"

"Tell me what you did with them!" it was practically a guttural scream.

Oh God…the razors. He had done a thorough search after he had cleaned the bathroom. He found the small box of razor blades in the medicine cabinet and pitched them in the dumpster outside. He had gone through Spencer's closet, his nightstands, and his dresser to make sure he didn't have any more hiding. He had taken the nail scissors, the kitchen scissors, the steak knives and cooking knives and put them in the trunk of his car, feeling too strange about throwing those things away to get rid of them. But he couldn't leave one goddamn sharp object in the apartment. He knew that.

"Spencer," this time Derek did manage to keep his voice even. "I need you to open the door now."

"Tell me where they are!"

"I threw them away, Spencer. I got rid of them. I didn't want you to hurt yourself any more. You don't…you don't _need _to hurt yourself anymore."

A sob burst from the opposite side of the door and he shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against it.

"Spencer…" he said quietly. "Let me help you."

"You don't understand! You d-don't understand!"

"Then _make _me understand, Spence," he pleaded. "Come on. Come out here and explain it to me. Talk to me."

"No!"

Jesus. This was bad. This was very bad. Had he done the wrong thing? Made the wrong call? All he was trying to do was protect the kid!

He could hear Spencer crying softly and lowered his voice. "Let me help you, baby boy," he murmured. "Everything is going to be ok…just come out here and we'll talk."

Spencer sniffled hard. "You d-don't understand…I h-have to…"

His heart was in his throat. "Have to what, baby?"

"I…I need…"

"Shhh…come out here and tell me. You don't have to be afraid."

"Please just leave…" it was an agonizing plea and it seemed his voice was coming from lower now, as though he had sunk to the floor. Derek dropped to his knees to keep them on the same level.

"I'm not going anywhere, Spencer," he said. "I'm ready to sit out here all night if I need to."

"Please, Derek…"

"I'm staying."

The sobs were softer now, but Derek could still hear him crying. He was completely at a loss. How many times had he talked down a shooter, or someone who was preparing to fight, and managed to keep calm? Why was this so much more difficult than when someone had a gun or a knife trained on him? "Spencer," he said, "please open the door."

He was greeted with nothing but the sound of muted crying.

"Come on, baby…you don't need those razors. You know you don't. You're stronger than that."

"You d-don't know…" it was barely audible.

"Yes I do. I know you Spencer. I know what you've been through. You're stronger than this. Now open the door."

Another tearful pause, then, "I-I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I'm not going anywhere. Spencer?" For a few moments he sat there, listening to the younger man quietly crying on the other side of the door. Maybe he should call JJ and have her come over. Maybe she could get through to the kid…she was practically a sister to him. It didn't matter who Spencer listened to, as long as he listened to someone.

Derek's fingers were straying toward the phone in his pocket when he suddenly heard the lock on the door click. It was the only sound. "Spencer?" he said quietly.

When the younger man didn't emerge, Derek reached up and turned the knob, slowly pushing the door open. He saw Spencer sitting on the floor by the sink, the remnants of everything that was in his medicine cabinet, including the two glass shelves, scattered around him. Derek thanked God that the kid hadn't taken a piece of broken glass to himself…he had been too focused on the missing blades.

"Come here," Derek coaxed, holding out his arms.

Spencer looked at him with a tearful gaze, his face surrounded by the disarray of his soft brown hair. Even like this, in the midst of crying, Derek still found him breathtakingly beautiful.

"Come here, baby boy," Derek whispered again.

Spencer continued to stare at him, blinked, and then suddenly launched himself forward and into Derek's arms, burying his face into the older man's shoulder. His body began to shake with sobs.

Derek folded him tightly into his arms, pulling the too-thin body into his lap and stroking Spencer's hair. "Shhhh…" he murmured. "It's all right now, baby boy. It's all right now…"

Spencer just continued to cry. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" The words were muffled against the older man's neck as Derek rocked him, whispering words of comfort into his ear.

They sat on the floor like that for a very long time.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

_Warning: This chapter contains discussion of self-harm. _

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><p>The morning dawned dark and rainy with thunder rumbling overhead, as though it had taken up residence over Spencer's apartment during the night and refused to leave. When Derek woke, bleary eyed and exhausted, he looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table that blazed 9:15 am. He had slept almost a full 2 hours later than he usually did. It would have felt like a luxury if not for the circumstances.<p>

He sat up in bed and rubbed his hands over his face, stretched, and then looked at the figure beside him who was still curled up under the blankets. Spencer was turned to face Derek, only the top of his head and curly brown locks visible. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully and Derek knew he needed it, so he carefully moved from the bed and crept across the carpet. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and stepped into them on his way to the door, slipping from the room. If he had breakfast prepared before Spencer woke up, maybe he could convince the kid to eat something.

The events of the previous night felt like nothing more than a dream. No, a nightmare. It still made Derek sick to think what might have happened if he hadn't made the decision to turn around and come back to Spencer's apartment; if he hadn't ignored the kid's wishes and stayed. The past 10 hours only solidified the feelings he had for the young man. If he was hoping to escape his emotions he was certainly screwed now, and he had come dangerously close to letting Spencer see just how much he truly cared about him.

The night had devolved from uncertainty and fear into a torrent of tears, angry words, and murmurs of comfort – Derek saying things he never thought he would hear himself say, but words that slipped from his mouth as he tried to help Spencer regain his senses. At least Spencer had been so out of it he probably hadn't noticed how over-protective and emotional Derek was acting, completely out of character for their normal day-to-day friendship.

After Derek finally coaxed Spencer out of the bathroom the kid had collapsed in his arms in tears, and he completely lost track of time. All he knew was that he had sat on the floor in the hallway, holding the sobbing young man against his chest and feeling thankful that Spencer was finally letting go of his tightly held emotions. He had rocked him, stroked his hair, whispered to him, until the tears subsided and Spencer finally drifted off to sleep with his head on Derek's shoulder.

Derek was so exhausted by that point that he had carried Spencer to bed and climbed right in next to him, shucking his shirt and jeans. The boy had instinctively curled up against Derek's much larger frame, seeking his warmth, and Derek had felt his heart skip a beat as he wrapped his arms around the young man, guilt consuming him for feeling so happy under the circumstances. He had fallen asleep listening to the sound of the rain pounding on the window and with the young man he cared for held tight against him.

The first thing Derek did was put a pot of coffee on, knowing Spencer would make a beeline for it. He searched the fridge and found a carton of eggs and a container of orange juice. There was bread on the counter and he dropped two pieces into the toaster, grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard, and found the cups and silverware without much effort. Spencer had a small kitchen table for two and Derek set out the dishes, marveling that this was more work than he usually did for himself in the mornings, most often opting to grab a bagel or muffin on his way to work.

He had cracked the eggs into a bowl and had just begun scrambling them when he heard a soft bang from the bedroom. His nerves already on edge, he rushed from the kitchen and burst into the bedroom without pretense, his heart pounding in his chest. "Spencer?"

The young man was hurriedly opening and closing drawers to his dresser, grabbing clothes and flinging them on the bed. Derek had to step into his line of view to get his attention. "Spencer, you okay?"

Spencer looked up at him sharply, and he could see the confusion clearly written in his gaze. "You're still here?"

Derek blinked, a little taken aback. He wondered just how much Spencer remembered from the night before. He was willing to bet a lot of it had been repressed or erased from his mind during the night. "Yeah," he said. "I'm still here."

Spencer made his way over to the closet and pulled the door open, rifling through his button-down shirts. "Shouldn't you be at work? Just because I'm late doesn't mean you need to be."

"Wait," Derek said, clarity dawning on him. "Spencer, you don't need to get ready for work. I called us both out."

Spencer turned on him in a flash, looking panicked. "Why would you do that?"

Derek swallowed hard. Yet again he felt like he had done the wrong thing, even though he knew it was right. He heard the toaster ding in the distance. "Because I thought you needed a day or two to rest."

Spencer turned back to the closet, pulling down a blue button down. Damn he would look good in that. Derek shook his head. Focus. "Well, you shouldn't have," Spencer said.

Derek dared to step toward him. "You had kind of a rough night, kid," he said softly. "I figured it would be good for you to sleep in, take it easy for a while."

"I don't need to do that."

"I disagree."

Spencer's hazel eyes flashed. "Look," he said. "I appreciate what you…what you did for me last night. And I'm sorry for what I put you through." His cheeks reddened slightly. "But it's really nothing I need to miss work over – and neither should you."

"Well, too bad," Derek shot back. "As far as the team is concerned you're sick and I had to run out of town, so you're not going in today and you're stuck with me, end of story."

Spencer opened his mouth, perfect lips parting, and then closed it again. Derek was hoping he had managed to win this – yet another – battle of wills between them.

"Does anyone…know?" he said quietly.

Derek shook his head. "No one knows what happened. But," he said uncomfortably. "I can tell you that JJ is worried about you. And…well…Hotch knows I'm here with you."

Now Spencer's cheeks colored with anger. "Hotch knows? What the Hell, Derek? This is like the time I told you about my nightmares and you went straight to Gideon!"

Derek took a step closer to the young man, his hands in the air. "I didn't tell Hotch anything, I promise. He knows something's up with you but he doesn't know what, and all he's certain of is that I'm here with you."

Spencer flung the shirt he was holding onto the bed. "He's going to think I'm weak!"

Derek shook his head, reaching out to put a hand on Spencer's bare shoulder and then pulling back sharply. "No one thinks you're weak, I promise."

"Well _you_ obviously do!" Spencer rounded on him again. "Who gave you permission to spend the night here anyway?"

"I didn't want to leave you alone."

"I'm _fine_," Spencer stressed. "I would have been perfectly fine if you had just stayed out of my business in the first place and let me take care of myself. It's not like I don't know how to do that."

"Spencer, I_ couldn't_ leave you alone – not in the condition you were in. What kind of person would that make me?"

"Someone who knows how to respect privacy! Why the Hell did you come over here last night anyway, Derek?" he practically yelled, "Why couldn't you just stay away and leave me alone?"

A dam broke and Derek felt his anger surge – the kind of red-hot anger that only fear for someone you care about could provoke. "It's a damn good thing I didn't leave you alone!" he almost shouted, unable to control himself. "I found you bleeding on the fucking bathroom floor, Spencer! How the Hell is that taking care of yourself? How am I not supposed to worry about you when you're clearly hurting? What the fuck would have happened if I hadn't shown up when I did? Can you tell me that? Can you honestly say that you would have stopped the bleeding on your own?" He was practically shaking with fury. "Can you honestly tell me that you're not going to do something like that ever again? Because your word isn't enough for me right now. I care about you too damn much to see you hurt yourself, and I am _not_ going to let it happen again. You think you can take care of yourself? That is bullshit! How long before you want to cut yourself again? How long until you're hysterical looking for those blades I threw away? So I'm not sorry I couldn't stay away, Spencer, because you fucking scared me to death last night and I am never, _ever _letting you hurt yourself again!"

Spencer stared at him for a moment in complete shock, his eyes glittering with tears. Derek had never spoken to him like that before, and he immediately felt guilty. But it was something that needed to be said and he wasn't sorry.

The young man took a slow step backwards and felt behind him for the edge of the bed, lowering himself down next to the pile of clothes. He looked down at the bandaged arm that was resting on one of his knees, still thankfully free of blood, and ran a finger down the binding.

Derek shivered.

"I'm sorry," Spencer whispered, so low it was barely audible.

Derek took a step forward and dropped to his knees, looking up into Spencer's face, forcing their eyes to meet. "I'm sorry too," he said softly. He captured Spencer's hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles. "I didn't mean to yell at you. You just…you just scared me so damn much, Spencer." He felt tears threatening and pushed them back. "Do you understand?"

Spencer nodded slowly and lowered his head, trying to hide his face behind the curtain of his hair. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I know…I-I know you're only trying to help."

"That's right. That's all I want to do."

"It's just that…" There was a long pause and Derek patiently waited for the young man to continue. "I just…I don't know how you can…help me."

Derek took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Can I at least try?" he asked, finally feeling like he was getting somewhere. "Will you talk to me?"

Another long pause, and then Spencer nodded again, still not looking at Derek's face.

"Good." This time Derek breathed a sigh of relief. "And I promise that whatever you tell me will stay between us, you got that?"

Another nod.

Derek stood, not releasing Spencer's hands, and tugged lightly. "Come on," he said. "Let's put these clothes away and get something to eat. I'm not much of a cook, but I think I can manage eggs and toast."

"I'm not really very hungry."

"Well can I at least interest you in a cup of coffee?"

That got a very quiet, "ok," and Derek had to smile. Didn't hurt to appeal to the kid's weakness. "Can you bring it in here though?" Spencer asked.

"Of course." Derek left the kid where he was and walked to the door. He turned back and saw that Spencer hadn't moved. "You gonna pick up those clothes and put them away, or am I gonna come back in here and find you fully dressed for work and trying to climb down a drain pipe?"

Spencer did look up at that and smiled. His smile was like nothing else Derek had ever seen before…it seemed like forever since he had seen it in full force. It made him want to grab Spencer up in his arms and kiss him.

Sweet Jesus. He shook his head hard, dispelling the thought.

"I promise I'm not going to climb down the drain pipe."

"Good." Derek started to walk out of the room.

"Derek?" the kid's voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned in the doorway. "Last night," he said uncomfortably. "I don't…I'm not sure…what would have happened," he managed. "If you hadn't shown up. So…thank you."

Derek couldn't find his voice so he nodded in acknowledgement and left the room. Once outside he took a deep breath. Thank God. Thank God he had come back last night. Spencer's words only solidified what he had been fearing. And what would he have done if he hadn't shown up when Spencer needed him and he had lost his pretty boy? What would he do?

He didn't intend to find out.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_Warning: This chapter contains explicit discussion of self-harm._

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><p>"Morgan." He balanced the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he grabbed the two mugs of freshly brewed coffee.<p>

"Hey, Derek, it's JJ." She sounded hesitant, and a little bit surprised that he had picked up. "I'm just calling to see how…how everything's going."

Derek paused mid-stride. "What did Hotch tell you?"

"That Spencer is sick and you had to fly to Chicago to see your mom, but I'm not buying it. Don't think anyone else is either but they aren't saying anything."

Derek let out a heavy sigh. "It's best if they don't know what's really going on."

"Derek, what _is_ really going on?"

He turned his back to the kitchen door and lowered his voice. "Spencer's having…kind of a rough time. I'm trying to help him through it."

"Is he using again?"

Derek felt his heart jump in his chest at the blatant question. "No," he said truthfully. "He isn't." He still felt as though it was a lie.

"Well that's a relief. What's going on then?"

"I…don't really think it's my place to say."

"Derek…"

"It was really hard for me to get him to open up in the first place, and I had to swear that I wouldn't say anything to anyone else. When he's ready, he'll tell you. I can't break his trust like that."

She let out a sigh but said, "I can respect that. Just…promise me he's ok?"

"He's ok," Derek said, again feeling as though that was a lie. "And I promise I'll take care of him."

"Good. And if you need my help, just let me know."

"I will, JJ, thanks."

He couldn't manage to shut his phone while still balancing the two mugs of coffee, so he started to head back to the bedroom. As he entered the hall he found the phone forgotten and felt it slip from his shoulder and fall to the floor as he lifted his head.

Spencer stood in the door of the bathroom, a hand braced on either side of the doorframe, staring at the floor with a look of anguish on his face. He had kept his promise by not getting dressed and was still wearing his pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, his bare toes twisting nervously into the carpet.

Shit. He was such an asshole. Such an idiot. He had been so exhausted last night after Spencer had finally fallen asleep that he hadn't bothered to clean up the bathroom; hadn't even thought about it until now.

He approached the younger man cautiously, not wanting to startle him. "Spencer?" When he didn't respond, Derek took a step closer and raised his voice. "Spencer?" He was relieved when the kid finally turned to face him, his eyes dark and haunted. Derek offered both mugs to him. "Take the coffee and go into the bedroom," he said gently. "I'll clean up the mess."

Spencer shook his head. "I can do it," he said, his voice hollow. "It's my fault."

"Please, kid," Derek said, "Let me take care of it. Just take the coffee and go into your room. I'll be in soon."

Spencer cast a look back to the bathroom floor, hesitating, but finally acquiesced and took the coffee from Derek's hands. As soon as he had disappeared into the bedroom Derek opened the hall closet and found a broom and dustpan, heading into the bathroom to clean up the mess.

The larger pieces of glass he was able to pick up and toss in the trash, and he extracted the various toiletries from the residue. As he placed face wash, toothpaste, dental floss, and the other former inhabitants of the medicine cabinet on the counter by the sink, he came across two small, clear orange prescription bottles, both full. His brow furrowed as he read the labels – one for anxiety, one for depression. Both filled over a month ago.

He hurriedly tidied up the rest of the fragments of glass and brushed them into the trashcan before climbing to his feet, the two pill bottles in hand.

When he entered the bedroom he saw Spencer sitting on the far side of the bed facing the window, his sinewy frame bent of the mug of coffee he held in his lap. This is how he was meant to look, the curve of his back creamy and smooth, skin unmarred by cuts and scars. This is how every inch of him should look.

Derek couldn't help the shiver that coursed through him.

He picked up the second cup of coffee that Spencer had left on the end table and walked around the bed, sitting down next to the young man and watching a flash of lightning through the window.

As Derek settled close to Spencer he could see that the young man's hands were trembling, long fingers wrapped around the warmth of the mug. Derek didn't know what to say, so he held out his palm, exposing the two pill bottles in his hand. "What are these?" he asked stupidly.

Spencer shrugged, lifting shaking hands to take a sip of coffee.

"Because it looks like medication you filled, but never took."

"Brilliant observation skills," Spencer murmured.

Derek was determined not to lose his temper this time around. "Why didn't you take them, Spencer?" he asked. "If your doctor thought you needed them, why didn't you listen?"

"Because I don't want to have to rely on drugs," he replied simply. "I don't want pills to dictate my life."

"Like the Dilaudid?"

He turned to face Derek, eyes pain-filled and owlish. "Like my mother."

Derek took a deep breath and set the pill bottles on the bed between them. "This is different than your mother's condition. You know that."

"But that could be me…one day."

"You can't worry about what hasn't happened yet. You can only worry about the here and now – and right now you're denying yourself the help that you need."

"My doctor gave me a list of therapists too," Spencer said softly.

"And have you talked to any of them?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Spencer shrugged in response, turning his attention back to his rapidly cooling coffee. "Thought I could control it."

"And now?"

"Now I don't know."

The admittance hung heavy in the air. It was a step in the right direction at least. Spencer may have come to grips with the fact that he needed help, but that was a far cry from actively seeking it out, or even taking what was offered to him.

A question burned on Derek's tongue and he tried to dispel it. There had been something nagging at him since the ride home he had given Spencer last night, and he knew that he couldn't help himself from asking. "Spencer," he said quietly. "Last night, in the car, I asked you how long you had been cutting yourself. You said forever. What did you mean?"

Spencer let out a long sigh and closed his eyes as though he knew this question was inevitable. "It meant exactly what I said."

"But when did it start?"

"I guess…when I started high school? I was so much younger than the other kids. I had to take care of my mom. My dad hadn't been in the picture for a long time. It made me feel…in control."

"In control…" Derek repeated. "But you were hurting yourself."

"I can't explain it," Spencer said. He was staring out the window now, his eyes unblinking. "It's not just about control. It's like a sensation, an impulse, bubbling over to the surface, and I just need to…to _feel_. Even if I'm feeling pain. Sometimes I think it's the only thing I can register. Everything else is just numb. And when I'm angry, or scared, or sad, it's like I'm…I'm bleeding those emotions out of myself bit by bit and it's the only way I can acknowledge them and let them go." He turned to face Derek again, his lashes spiked with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know how to explain it. I really don't. I wish I could. I wish I could give you a reason, but I can't."

"It's ok," Derek assured him. "Have you…have you been cutting yourself this whole time?"

Spencer shook his head. "No…I stopped when I was in college. I finally felt like I had found my element I guess. I stopped for a long time. Then when Tobias hooked me on Dilaudid it was like a whole new habit was taking me over…the method was different but the release was the same. Gideon…Gideon helped me through that. We never spoke about it, not really, but I knew he knew and I knew he understood. Then, when he left…"

"Were you angry with him?"

Spencer shrugged. "A little…I guess. But not really. More hurt, but it wasn't his fault. It was just…too similar."

"To your father."

"Yeah."

Derek took another sip of his coffee, which had now definitely gone cold. "Spencer…" he managed, then paused, his heart beating in his chest. "There's something I want to say to you."

The boy looked up at him expectantly.

"I just want you to know," Derek forced the words out, meeting the younger man's eyes and locking their gaze. "I want you to know that I'm not going to leave you. That I'm not going to walk away from you like your father, or Gideon. I need you to know that."

The expression on the younger man's face instantly fell, his eyes darkening. "Don't say that, Derek," he said quietly.

"It's the truth," Derek said. "I'm not going to walk away from you. Not now, not ever."

He could see the shimmer of tears in Spencer's eyes and the boy quickly turned away from him, looking back to the window. "You promise," he said. It wasn't a question.

Derek nodded. "I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_Warning: This chapter contains explicit and highly emotional discussion of self-harm._

* * *

><p>He was a fool. A complete and utter idiot.<p>

He had thought – really thought – that he could talk Spencer through his problems and convince the kid to stop hurting himself in less than 24 hours? It wasn't just stupid, it was selfish and dangerous as well. Spencer had been injuring himself on and off for almost his entire life, and he wasn't going to stop now just because Derek told him to. That was a harsh lesson to learn.

He had been so sure that he was getting through to the young man, and that Spencer was finally beginning to agree with him and admit that he needed help. He had let Derek undress his wound and check it over before hopping in the shower, and then let him bandage his arm again. He had acquiesced to eating a peanut butter sandwich for lunch and chicken noodle soup for dinner. He had let Derek call them both out of work for another day without complaint. He had agreed to watch a movie: _Star Wars_, and his lips moved along silently with every line that was spoken. He almost seemed like he was getting back to the Spencer that Derek knew, and he was beginning to believe that everything was going to be all right.

And then it all went to Hell.

They had fallen asleep on the couch after the movie, Derek on one end and Spencer on the other. The storm had finally subsided and the evening was cool and quiet. Derek felt exhaustion like he never had before, and he didn't know how Spencer had been going so long on so little sleep. Derek doubted he would be able to drag himself to work every day under the circumstances. It either spoke to Spencer's strength, or his determination to hide his problem.

He woke to the sound of drawers being violently opened and shut, and objects hitting the floor. When he opened his eyes and sat up he could see the outline of Spencer's form in the darkened kitchen, frantically pulling out drawers, digging through the contents, and slamming them closed again. He didn't need to ask what the kid was doing. He knew, and his heart froze in his chest.

"Spencer, stop." He made it into the kitchen in what felt like two steps and grabbed the younger man's upper arms from behind.

Spencer struggled to pull free. "Where are they, Derek?" His voice was…eerily calm. Not the angry shout from when he had been trashing the medicine cabinet the night before.

The kid didn't have a prayer of breaking out of Derek's grasp, though he was holding on gently as he could. "I told you, Spencer. You don't need those blades anymore. I threw them out."

"I know…I know the blades are gone," his voice was high and tight. "What did you do with…with the knives?"

Derek's heart sunk into his stomach. "I took them out of the house," he said evenly. "You won't find any."

Spencer let out a strangled cry and tried to turn in Derek's hold.

"Kid, calm down. Everything's fine."

He could hear Spencer's breaths coming in and out like frantic gasps. "Please, Derek. Please."

Derek loosened his hold on the boy's arms and he turned around, immediately clutching fist-fulls of the older agent's T-shirt with trembling hands. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his face mere inches from Derek's with eyes glassy and frantic.

He moved his hands to Spencer's shoulders, setting them there gently. "Take deep breaths," he said. "It's going to be okay. Tell me what happened. Did you have another dream about Tobias?"

Spencer's gaze rose upwards, suddenly refusing to meet Derek's eyes. He could see the tears welling.

"Kid? Were you dreaming about the drugs? Is that what happened?" He chided himself for not waking when Spencer had been ripped from whatever nightmare he had been suffering through.

He could see Spencer's throat working as he swallowed hard. "I k-killed him," he murmured.

Derek almost started back. "You had to."

The young man shook his head.

"Spencer…if you hadn't shot him, he would have killed you. He was forcing you to dig your own grave for God sake!"

Spencer kept his eyes trained above Derek's head and shook his head more forcefully. "That wasn't Tobias."

"Then it wasn't Tobias who you shot," Derek concluded. "If his father made you dig that grave, then he's the one you killed and you did it to protect yourself." He knew that Spencer had struggled with guilt after Tobias's death, but he hadn't realized the extent, or that this was still going on.

"But Tobias is the one who died," Spencer said. "He tried to help me." He pressed his lips in a tight line, clearly trying to keep himself from crying.

"He tried to help you by giving you drugs."

"It was the only thing he knew that could take the pain away. And…and he was right. Almost…right."

"Spencer," Derek said very slowly and succinctly. "You shot a man to protect yourself. No matter if he had one personality or a dozen, he was still a threat to you and you did what needed to be done."

"Then why do I feel so terrible?" His face devolved into anguish.

"Because you're human."

Spencer lowered his head, tears dripping from his eyes. Derek dared to reach up and smooth a hand over the young man's hair. It was especially soft from his earlier shower, and he had to stop himself from running his fingers through it.

This is the Spencer whom he loved, he realized, and the one he didn't want to lose. Even if it was ridiculous that he blamed himself for Tobias's death, it only proved that he wasn't jaded by this job yet. He still believed in goodness in the world even after everything that had happened to him in his short life, and he still wanted to save everyone. He looked younger to Derek now than he ever had before.

One day that innocence would be truly extinguished, and Derek knew it would break his heart when it was.

He put a fist under Spencer's chin and tried to nudge his face up to look at him. He was met with resistance.

"Please, Derek…"

"I'll help you kid. Just tell me what you need."

"I need…I-I need…I need to do it again."

Derek's blood ran cold. "No," he said with finality. "Not going to happen."

Spencer began crying softly, his face still downcast. "Please," he gasped the word. "Derek, you don't understand. I _need_ it. I need to feel it."

"I am _not_ letting you cut yourself again."

"Just once more…" Spencer begged, clutching Derek's shirt tighter. "I promise…just once more. I need to…I need to do it. My skin feels like it's twitching, like it's about to come off. You don't understand."

"You got off the Dilaudid and you can stop this too. I believe in you."

Spencer shook his head. "If I can't have drugs, I need this. I need the release. You don't know how it feels…you don't understand." He looked up then, and his hazel eyes bore into Derek's with a frightening intensity. "I _need _it."

"No!" Derek's response was forceful and he struggled not to shake the kid into compliance.

"I'll find something," Spencer said, letting go of Derek's shirt and trying to shirk out of his grasp. "There has to be something. Has to be…" He started looking around frantically.

"There isn't. I made sure of it."

"No, no, there has to be something..."

"I promise you, there's nothing in this apartment."

Spencer seemed to be standing on a ledge that suddenly crumbled beneath him. As his desperation grew he sank to the floor, finally succeeding in releasing his shoulders from Derek's hands.

"I need it…I need it…" his voice was desperate, but the more frightening thing was how quiet it was. Derek felt more comfortable when Spencer was screaming at him than he did now. This was a whole different kind of meltdown.

Spencer was on his hands and knees, the tears flowing freely now, as he begged. "Please, Derek, please please please. You don't understand. You don't know how much I need this. How much I need to feel it. Just let me do it one more time. Just this once. I promise it will be the last time. Derek, please." It was the most gut-wrenching sight he had ever seen.

Derek slowly sank to his knees in front of where Spencer was hunched over on the ground. Now he was just mumbling a desperate stream of "please, please, please…"

Derek said nothing. He grabbed Spencer with one bulking arm around the chest, and turned him over, his other arm snaking under the younger man's knees as he rose back up from the floor.

Spencer immediately went rigid and then tried to clamor out of Derek's embrace. "Derek, stop! Stop! You don't understand! Please! Please! I _have_ to! I'm losing my mind! Please!" The quiet pleading was now escalating to the familiar hysteria.

As Spencer kicked his legs wildly, Derek hung on tight and carried the young man out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom. Once inside he kicked the door closed and lowered himself to the bed with his struggling burden, settling Spencer on his lap and folding his arms around him tightly.

Spencer continued to fight, trying to launch himself up and away. "Let me go! Derek, let me go!"

"No," Derek said calmly.

Spencer turned towards him, his face a mess of wetness, and started pushing against the older man's chest. When that did nothing, he began hitting him, which made Derek only hold on tighter. "Let me go!" he shrieked.

"No."

"Let go of me! Now!"

He didn't budge.

"I hate you, Derek! I hate you! I hate you!"

"Too bad," Derek said.

He wasn't sure how long Spencer fought against him, flailing his legs and shoving and hitting and punching, all the while screaming in rage. He just held on and let the hysteria work itself out of his system.

"I hate you!" Spencer continued to cry. "I hate you!"

Derek said nothing. Just held him tight.

It was a long time before the boy settled down and the fighting dissolved into sobs. Derek tried to pull him against his chest, but Spencer resisted for a long while before Derek finally felt the strength go out of him and he sagged into the older man's embrace.

He rocked him as he had on the hallway floor, only this time as Spencer cried he knew better than to think that when this finally stopped it would all be over. He rested his cheek on top of Spencer's head.

After a few moments the sobs died down to soft crying and sniffles and Derek finally felt as though the storm was beginning to pass once more. He steeled his resolve. "Spencer," he said, quiet but firm, "tomorrow morning we are going to look through the list of therapists your doctor gave you." He felt Spencer stiffen in his arms, but he said nothing. "You're going to pick one out," Derek continued, "and we're going to make an appointment. This is not a request."

He half expected Spencer to tell him yet again that this was none of his business, and that Derek couldn't force him to do something he didn't want to do, but the boy was silent.

Derek sighed. "I'm sorry, Spencer," he said. "I let you down."

He was surprised when he heard the young man mumble, "It's not your fault."

"I thought I could fix this by myself," Derek said. "I was wrong. You need more help than I can give you, and I'm sorry for thinking I was enough."

Spencer had stopped crying and rested quietly against him.

"Tomorrow," Derek said, "we're going to find you real help tomorrow. We'll find someone for you to talk to."

A pause. Then, "Will you go with me?" Spencer had spoken so quietly Derek had barely heard him.

He felt tears sting his eyes. "Of course, kid," he said, holding Spencer tight. "You can count on it."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_Warning: Very vague references to self-harm._

_Note: For those of you wanting to see a physical pay-off between Spencer and Derek, there will be one eventually. If you can't wait that long, I've posted a sweet and smutty one-shot called "Sunday" under the M rating. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Her name was Dr. Genevieve Monroe, and Derek liked her on sight. She was a petite blond woman in her mid-forties with a slight resemblance to JJ, a firm handshake, and a warm smile. The best thing about her was that she had been able to fit Spencer in for an appointment less than 24 hours after they had called.<p>

The waiting room of her private practice was small and as comfortable as one could expect. Derek made himself at home with a cup of coffee, an ESPN magazine, and a muted TV playing a generic sitcom while he waited for the young man's appointment to be over. He couldn't help but feel nervous, his eyes darting over to the doorway every few minutes, waiting for Spencer to emerge.

Right before Spencer had disappeared with the doctor, he had hesitated and looked to Derek as though he wished the older man was coming with him. Derek was glad he hadn't asked – he wasn't sure what the doctor's policy was, but if he was allowed in he wasn't sure he would have had the strength to say no, and he knew that this was something important for Spencer to do on his own.

They must have been in her office for over an hour, at least a couple soundless sitcoms worth of time, when the two of them walked back into the waiting room, Spencer with a stoic expression on his face and Dr. Monroe with the same warm, reassuring smile. "My assistant will call you to make your next appointment," she said, stopping to shake Spencer's hand. Derek walked over to them and she shook his hand as well, looking him right in the eye. "Thank you both for coming." Derek realized she knew that it had been him who had encouraged Spencer to make the appointment.

As they walked out of the office Derek put a hand on Spencer's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Everything go okay?" he asked.

Spencer shrugged. "Depends on you definition of okay, I guess," he replied.

They climbed into the car and Spencer immediately leaned his head against the window, the exact same position he had taken up the night when Derek had first confronted him. "Do you want to get something to eat?" Derek asked, determined to get Spencer out of the house for more than just a doctor's appointment.

"No thanks, home is fine."

Derek kept his disappointment to himself as they pulled out of the parking lot. Spencer offered no more information about his session with Dr. Monroe, and Derek didn't push him. When they were about halfway back to Spencer's apartment, Derek's phone rang. He snapped it open and the first thing he heard was JJ's voice say, "I'm really sorry."

"JJ?" Derek saw Spencer quickly turn to face him out of the corner of his eye.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah…everything's fine."

"Good. Look, I know it's bad timing but a huge case in Miami just came up and Hotch really needs you back."

Derek felt pin prickles of dread creep down his throat, but said, "When do we leave?"

"Tonight," JJ said, then sighed. "Like I said, I'm really sorry. I know you don't want to leave Spence alone right now."

"What's going on, we got a case?" Derek eyed the young man who was now sitting up anxiously.

"Was that Spencer?" JJ asked. "Tell him not to worry. Hotch wants to give him more time."

"I don't think that's going to go over so well," Derek said evenly.

"Well then tell him staying home is a direct order…because it is."

Derek sighed. "What time is the flight, JJ?"

"8 pm."

"I'll be there." He hung up.

He could feel Spencer's eyes boring into him so hard his skin almost twitched. "What's going on?" the young man asked.

Derek didn't move his eyes from the road. "Hotch requested me for a case in Miami. I have to leave tonight."

A long moment of silence. "Just you?"

Derek nodded, feeling very uncomfortable. "JJ says he wants you to take some more time off."

"Don't I get any say in that?" his voice was icy.

"You can fight Hotch on it if you want to, but you know it won't do any good. He's not going to let you come." His eyes flicked over to take in Spencer's stony expression. "And I suppose it won't make a difference to you to say I agree with him."

"You guys both need to stop treating me like I can't take care of myself."

"Prove that you can take care of yourself and we'll stop treating you like you can't." He immediately felt that he had been too harsh with the kid and wanted to take it back, but he couldn't. It was out there.

Spencer sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. "I think you should drop me off and go," he said quietly.

"The flight's not until tonight. I don't have to leave right away."

"I'm sure you still have some packing to do. And you'll need to stop at your neighbor's to check in on Clooney."

"It won't take that long."

"I'm asking you not to come home with me."

They were pulling into Spencer's lot, and everything was starting to seem like de ja vu all over again. "Aren't you the one who asked me to go with you to your appointment?"

"And you did. So thank you."

"And didn't we _just_ have this conversation and I told you I wasn't going to leave you alone?"

"You _are_ leaving me alone. You're going to Miami."

Derek pulled into a parking space so fast it threw Spencer back in his seat. He killed the engine and immediately turned on the younger agent. "That's work, and I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you, and if you can't realize that you aren't the genius you pretend to be."

"You can do whatever you want to, Derek. I'm not going to stop you." Spencer's eyes were hard. "I'm tired of you taking care of me and I'm tired of being a burden."

Derek's jaw dropped. "You're not a burden, I never said that!"

"You didn't have to." Spencer turned and got out of the car before Derek could stop him. "I'm going to take care of myself this time," he said. "Good luck in Miami."

Derek leaned across the seat, feeling anxiety clutching his gut. "_Please_ be careful pretty boy," he pleaded.

"I'm back on my meds and I'm going to keep seeing Dr. Monroe. I'll be okay."

"I'm going to come see you as soon as I get back," Derek vowed.

Spencer nodded. "I need some time alone anyway. I have a lot of thinking to do."

"Just remember that Garcia is staying here and if you need someone she'll be over in a heartbeat."

"Thanks for lining up a sitter."

Derek wanted to throttle him. "Spencer, I care about you. I want you to be okay. Please understand that. It's all I want, pretty boy. You know I'm not going to walk away from you."

Spencer nodded. "So you said."

"It's true."

Spencer paused and stared at Derek, his lips suddenly quirking into a bitter grin. "You want to know how my appointment went today?"

"You know I do."

"Dr. Monroe wants me to consider checking myself in to a facility in West Virginia. Still so sure you don't want to walk away?"

Derek's mouth went dry. "Spencer, I can cancel on Miami."

"Don't. People need you."

"_You _need me."

"It's my decision."

Derek nodded. "I know. I know it is." He sighed. "I'll be back in a few days and we can talk about it then," he promised.

Spencer merely nodded.

"Take care of yourself kid, and call me if you need anything."

The younger man shut the car door and turned to leave without another word. Derek watched his retreating form as he walked into the front door of his apartment building and wanted to scream. Just another wrench thrown into everything else. And now he was being called away to Miami.

He turned the car engine back on and reluctantly backed out of the parking spot. Maybe, if nothing else, this would prove to Spencer that he would come back to him.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

_Warnings: Mild, non-graphic violence and allusions to self-harm._

* * *

><p>As Derek felt the warm stickiness of blood drip down his neck and pool beneath him on the pavement, the only thing to enter his mind was: <em>I lied to him<em>.

JJ's face swam blurrily before him as his vision began to tunnel. "Derek," her voice sounded like she was under water. He felt a hand gripping his neck tightly where the bullet had penetrated, but he wasn't sure if it was JJ or someone else who he couldn't see. The rest of his body felt like it was floating.

"Derek, you're going to be okay. The ambulance is on its way. You're going to be fine." He could hear sirens blaring in the distance, growing ever closer.

Hotch's voice joined hers but he couldn't see him – couldn't manage to turn his head. "Morgan, you ever pull a stunt like that again and I'll recommend you to Strauss for suspension."

Morgan's eyes locked onto JJ. "The unsub?" he sounded strange to his own ears, as though his voice was echoing. He knew his trachea hadn't been hit or breathing, let alone speaking, would be an impossibility. As it was, he was having a difficult time drawing enough oxygen into his lungs.

"In custody," she assured him. "But you should have waited for backup."

He ignored the reprimand as he had Hotch's. "JJ…tell…tell Spencer…" He wasn't sure how to finish the sentence, but fear suddenly gripped his heart that he was going to die without ever telling the young man that he loved him.

"I'll tell Spencer what happened," she assured him. "I know he'll jump on the next plane."

Derek shook his head against the pavement, his eyes growing wide in fear. He didn't want to imagine what Spencer would do if he was alone when he found out that the one person he could count on had been shot. "Don't…tell him…over the phone…" he managed. It was growing harder to breath and his voice sounded gravelly. His vision was beginning to narrow further and was pinpricked with sparkles of black.

He heard a commotion around him and then felt someone settle by his side. The hand on his neck was removed and then replaced by another. "Don't worry sir, you're going to be fine." An unfamiliar voice, probably that of an EMT.

Derek ignored him, begging JJ to respond with his eyes.

Her brow was furrowed. "Derek, I'm sure he'll come right away."

He shook his head again. "Can't…be alone…when he hears…"

Comprehension seemed to dawn. Derek wasn't sure how much JJ had realized, but it was enough. "I'll take the plane," she said. "I'll leave right away, and I'll bring him back here with me, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you…thank you…"

"Sir, you need to relax," this time it was a disembodied voice on his other side. "We're going to get you out of here."

It felt like JJ was squeezing his hand, but he couldn't be sure. "I'll bring Garcia back with me," she promised him. "I know she'll want to come too."

"Thank…you…"

It wasn't just that he wanted to protect Spencer, he realized. He was scared as Hell – he was man enough to admit that – and all he wanted was the younger agent there with him. He needed to feel Spencer's presence, hear his voice, see his beautiful hazel eyes. He needed to feel safe, and Spencer was the only person who could do that for him.

He felt JJ press a kiss to his forehead before she rose and walked away, and the EMTs began to shift him onto a stretcher.

_Spencer, I need you_. It was his last conscious thought.

Then everything went black.

x x x x x

He woke to the sound of beeping and the blaze of fluorescent lights. He blinked, his head pounding, and snaked an IV-ridden hand up to his neck. He wasn't sure how much time had passed.

There was a large gauze bandage surrounded by medical tape on the left side of his neck near his collarbone. Thank God the bullet hadn't pierced an artery.

"Don't touch that," a quiet voice admonished, one that made his heart quicken in his chest. He felt the bed dip and turned his head on the pillow to find Spencer settling beside him.

The young man looked more beautiful in that moment than he ever had before. The image before him blurred and he realized his eyes had filled with tears. "You came."

"Of course I did." Spencer lowered himself to lie on the small strip of available bed by Derek's side. He curled against the older agent's form and his hand searched for Derek's, joining them to lie across the man's chest.

Spencer's face was pressed against the uninjured side of Derek's neck, his breath tickling hotly. "Derek," he murmured, his voice wet with tears. "Derek, I'm so sorry."

"Shhh…there's nothing to be sorry for pretty boy," he placed a kiss on top of the young agent's head. "Nothing at all."

"I never should have spoken to you the way I did. You've been nothing but amazing to me."

"It's forgotten." All Derek cared about at this moment was that the man he loved was next to him and he finally felt like he didn't have to struggle to breathe.

Spencer's body shook with a silent sob. "I don't know what I would have done if…if…"

"I'm fine, kiddo," he whispered into the soft, chestnut locks. "Everything's going to be okay. I'm just glad you're here."

"Of course I am. I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Derek hesitated. "Are you…are you alright?"

He felt the young man nod against him. "I'm fine," he murmured. "I promise."

"I'm sorry to give you something else to worry about. Hotch already wants to rip my head off for not following orders, so you'll have to get in line."

That garnered the soft laugh he had hoped for. "It's fine…really. I'm just…I'm just glad you're okay." He paused and Derek could tell he was trying to strengthen his resolve. "I don't know what I would do if…I lost you."

"You won't lose me, baby boy. I told you that."

"I don't know how I would get by without you, Derek."

"You won't have to. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

He felt Spencer nod again and then the young agent's breathing began to even out. The rhythm of his chest rising and falling and the beat of his heart lulled Derek into a feeling of contentment. The warmth of the body pressed against him made him feel safe in a way he never had before.

Maybe he had been wrong to try to be Spencer's savior. Maybe this wasn't the one-way deal he had assumed and they were supposed to help each other.

With that thought to hold on to, he let himself to be pulled under to a peaceful sleep.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

_Warning: This chapter contains references to self-harm._

* * *

><p>"Don't move."<p>

Derek froze, poised halfway out of the armchair, and begrudgingly sat back down. "You know, pretty boy, I don't remember you ever being this bossy. I think I like it."

Spencer grabbed the mug of tea on his way past the coffee table and pressed it into Derek's hands. "Well get used to it, because I'm not letting you do anything until you're back on your feet."

"It's not that big of a deal, kiddo. I can take care of myself." He sniffed at the tea. "Is this mint?"

"Yes. Try it, you'll like it." Spencer perched on the arm of the couch. "And in case I need to remind you, you were shot."

"It's not that bad." He blew on the steaming mug and forced himself to take a sip.

Spencer leaned forward, chestnut locks falling before his eyes. "You were shot."

Derek looked at him and scowled.

"And you've been doing nothing but taking care of me lately…let me return the favor."

"Have you been seeing Dr. Monroe?" Derek asked.

"It's not about me right now, Derek. For once." Spencer sighed. "But nice diversion. Yes, I have been seeing her. She's still trying to convince me to…to…"

"Check yourself into that facility?" Derek asked softly.

Spencer nodded, avoiding the older man's gaze.

"Are you considering it?"

Spencer stood up abruptly and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtain to gaze out at the night. "Maybe…"

Derek's heart beat double time in his chest. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but he knew that Spencer wouldn't do well in a hospital – it would remind him too much of his mother. Derek knew he was terrified of ending up like her.

He stood up from the chair and walked over to Spencer who turned around from the window in alarm. "I thought I told you not to move," he admonished.

Derek really did like him bossy. "I'm fine. Tell me more about this place in West Virginia."

"I really don't feel like talking about it right now, Derek," Spencer said, looking down at the floor so that his bangs fell into his eyes.

"I understand if you don't want to go. _I_ don't want you to go."

Maybe that hadn't been the right thing to say – but dammit he was so tired of keeping his feelings bottled up inside. If that bullet had been an inch higher he could have bled out on the pavement the other night and be dead right now, instead of standing in the living room of his apartment with Spencer. How much more time was he willing to lose?

"Well it's ultimately my decision," Spencer said. He leaned against the wall next to the window, folding his arms over his chest.

"How long would it be for?"

He shrugged. "It would be voluntary. Look, I told you I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Well then what _do_ you want to talk about?"

"How about how fucking stupid it was of you to go after that unsub in Miami without backup?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Trust me, the whole team has made that _abundantly _clear."

"You could have been killed, Derek," his voice was wavering.

"I know…" He suddenly felt incredibly guilty, just like he had lying there, thinking that he would die and by doing so he would be breaking a promise to Spencer.

"I don't know if I could get past something like that."

Derek reached out his hands to place them on Spencer's upper arms. He rubbed them up and down as he spoke. "I'm right here, pretty boy. I told you I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not."

"When I heard…" Spencer's voice suddenly dropped low. "When JJ told me…" he was shifting uncomfortably. "I wanted to…I wanted…."

"But you didn't."

Spencer shook his head. "I promise, I didn't hurt myself. I already told you. I couldn't do something like that with JJ there."

"Which is exactly why I had her tell you in person."

"Derek," tear-filled hazel eyes met his gaze. "I don't want to feel like this anymore. I'm so tired. So fucking exhausted. It's so hard trying to constantly keep myself from doing the one thing I really want to do – the only thing that will make me feel better."

Derek shook his head. "It will get easier, pretty boy."

"Will it?" Spencer demanded. "Because it hasn't gotten any better in the past 15 or how ever many years of my life. I feel like it's all I have to hold on to – something I can control – something that won't go away or be taken away."

"It's _not_ all you have, Spencer, you know that."

"Well you can tell me all you want that you're not going to leave me, but we both know that's a promise you can't keep." He wiped the back of a hand over his eyes. "And that's not your fault. I just can't trust anyone or anything."

He felt his heart twisting inside of his chest and the words climbing to the surface, desperate to break free. "Spencer, you can trust me."

He sniffed. "I want to…I really, really do…"

"You can."

"I don't want you to make empty promises to me."

"It's not an empty promise. Spencer, I…"

"Please don't say something you'll regret."

"Spencer, I love you." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and they hung heavy in the quiet air.

He could see the color drain from the younger man's face, and all he could think was, _I've ruined everything_. But there was no taking it back, not know. Spencer was frozen like a statue, and he realized that he had completely fucked everything up between them because of his own selfishness.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but no words came out. He stared into Spencer's eyes, which were owlish in shock.

Never mind the fact that the man he loved was standing there before him looking horrified at his admission – he had completely destroyed their friendship as well. "Spencer…Spencer, I…"

He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but it didn't matter, because at that moment Spencer leaned forward and grabbed Derek by the shoulders. He pulled him close so fast the older agent wasn't sure what had happened.

And then Spencer's lips were on his and nothing else mattered at all.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

_Warning: Mild sexual content and references to self-harm._

* * *

><p>The moonlight streaming in through the window was the only thing that illuminated the bedroom as Derek clumsily navigated his way around the furniture. It was doubly impossible because his lips were joined with Spencer's in an unending kiss as he walked the younger man backwards into the room. Not a single word had passed between them.<p>

Derek bumped his shin against an end table and grunted in pain, not deterring from his path. When they reached the edge of the bed, Spencer laid down smoothly, no hesitation, and with hands fisted in Derek's T-shirt pulled down the older agent on top of him.

They were a tangle of limbs and exploring tongues, hands not yet daring to wander. Derek ran his fingers through Spencer's hair, twining them in the silky locks. The kid tasted incredible – unreal. This entire thing was unreal; something Derek had wanted for so long but had only recently admitted to himself. And to have Spencer reciprocate his feelings? To have the younger man pressed beneath him on his bed? That was not something he believed would happen in a million years.

Spencer suddenly broke the kiss, breathing hard, and caught Derek's gaze with his own. His eyes glinted in the pale light. "Are you okay?" he asked. "I'm not hurting you am I?"

Derek smiled. "I'm fine pretty boy." He closed the distance between them again and with a renewed vigor, unable to stop himself. "Spencer," he murmured between kisses. "I've dreamed of this."

"Me too."

That was something he never expected to hear, and his heart fluttered in his chest. "You're so beautiful," he breathed.

"Please don't say that." The younger man tried to turn his head away, but Derek caught his chin refused to let him divert his gaze.

"It's true," Derek whispered. "You take my breath away."

A slight smile passed over Spencer's face, and then they were kissing again. Derek almost couldn't retain his shock when Spencer rolled them over, straddling the older agent with his long legs, managing not to break the kiss in the process.

Derek's blood was now hot beneath his skin and he craved…craved to touch and taste and experience everything that Spencer was, because Spencer was perfection. And now here they were together, and he was going to relish every single moment of it. Spencer was kissing his chin, his ear, his collarbone, and Derek couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips.

Spencer suddenly sat up with a gasp and scrambled backwards, off of Derek and onto the floor. He stood there, hunched over, arms wrapped tightly around himself.

Derek sat up on his elbows in alarm, the mood instantly shifted. "Spencer?"

"I can't…I can't do this…" Spencer gasped out.

Derek had gone from pure joy to feeling his heart crumbling in his chest, all within an instant. "Talk to me," he said. "Tell me what's wrong." He stood up and made his way over to the younger man who took a step away from him.

"I'm sorry Derek," the eyes Spencer now turned on him were full of sorrow. He shook his head, and it was suddenly that look Derek had seen on his face when he had been crying on the floor, desperate to cut himself. "I'm so, so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, pretty boy," Derek promised. He was trying to keep his temper in check but having Spencer suddenly running away from him was hurting him deeply. "Just tell me what's wrong."

Spencer backed up further until he was in the doorway. "I should go," he whispered. "This shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…I shouldn't leave you alone but I have to go."

Derek was absolutely dumfounded as the kid turned in the doorway and started down the hall. He followed him into the living room where Spencer pried his coat out from underneath a slumbering Clooney.

"Spencer, please don't go running out of here in the middle of the night. You need me and I need you…neither one of us should be alone."

He shrugged into his jacket. "I'm sorry…I have to…I have to think. I promise I'll be ok." He turned and threw a despairing look back at Derek. "Will you be okay?"

No, he most certainly would not be okay, but it had absolutely nothing to do with the bullet wound in his neck. What could he say? "Yeah, kid," he murmured. "Yeah, I'll be okay. I'm sorry. I…I shouldn't have said anything."

"No…" Spencer said, looking off vacantly. "I'm glad you did. I just…I have a lot to figure out. A lot to process."

"Will you call me when you're ready to talk?"

Spencer managed a half-hearted smile. "Of course," he said. And just like that he was out the door and gone, leaving Derek staring after him in shock.

He really had screwed everything up this time, and things between him and Spencer would never be the same. He would rather have the kid as a friend if nothing at all. Now he wasn't sure if he could even have that much.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

_Warning: Mild sexual content and references to self-harm._

* * *

><p>Three days.<p>

It had been three days since Spencer had walked out of his apartment; walked away from him. Derek hadn't received so much as a text from the kid saying he was all right, and he was frustrated enough to put a fist through the wall.

Is this how it felt to the women he didn't call? If that was the case – and he suspected it was – he was filled with a renewed sense of guilt for every woman he had unintentionally led on, because this waiting and not knowing was absolute torture.

He picked up his phone about twenty times a day, thumb hovering over the number to Spencer's speed dial, and then snapped the damn thing shut before he could let himself go through with calling. He had to stop himself from putting on his shoes and his jacket and taking off to Spencer's place to show up unannounced on his doorstep. He had to talk himself out of calling JJ or Hotch and asking if they'd heard from him – because if he did that they would just worry and Spencer would feel betrayed.

He felt like he was losing his mind. It was like he was in a catch-22 between feeling responsible if the kid did something to hurt himself, and wanting to respect Spencer's privacy and his request for time. After all, Derek had sprung a lot on him and he didn't blame Spencer for needing to be alone to process his confession.

It was 11:30 at night, the wind was howling, and the rain was pouring down in a torrent when Derek's doorbell rang. He immediately leapt to his feet, shushing Clooney who was barking at the intrusion on their evening, and made his way over to the door with his heart in his throat. He pulled it open, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

Spencer stood in the hallway, soaked from head to toe. He looked at Derek through a curtain of wet bangs, and quirked a small smile. "Sorry I didn't call," he said quietly.

Derek reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into the apartment and into his embrace, not minding the fact that he was getting drenched by proxy. "Don't you have a damn umbrella?" he chided into the kid's ear.

"Must have forgotten it," Spencer murmured back into Derek's shoulder.

Derek hugged him tight, relishing the feeling of the younger man safe in his arms, and then pulled back, bringing Spencer further into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. "Let me get you a towel."

Spencer shook his head. "I can't stay."

Derek furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean you can't stay? You came all the way over here in the middle of the night and you're soaked to the bone."

Spencer put a hand out and shook his head. "Please, Derek. Please just…just let me say this and I'll go."

Derek sighed deeply, studying the younger man's shivering form and wanting to hug him again and strangle him at the same time. "Tell me," he said quietly.

Spencer licked his lips. "I've made my decision."

His heart was beating fast again, hammering against his ribcage. "About?"

"West Virginia."

"And?"

"I'm going."

It was suddenly very quiet in the apartment despite the rain pounding on the windows and the rumble of thunder. Derek knew that Spencer was waiting for a response – knew he should say something – but he wasn't sure what that something was. His selfish side wanted Spencer to stay. Logically, he knew it was probably the right decision for him to go.

Either way, he hated it.

"Are you sure?" he managed.

Spencer nodded. "I thought about it a lot. I spoke to Dr. Monroe. She has a colleague she's going to refer me to."

Derek suddenly felt like he had lost his voice and cleared his throat. "For how long?"

A shrug. "Probably three months."

Not so long in the grand scheme of things, not really, but the thought of being away from Spencer for three months was pure agony. "I'm sorry," he wasn't sure why he had said it, but the words seemed to come unbidden to his lips.

Spencer quirked a brow. "You're sorry? For what?"

Derek ran a hand over his head and sighed. "I…I don't know. I guess I feel like I let you down. I wanted you to be able to count on me…depend on me…it was self-absorbed and foolish."

Spencer shook his head. "Derek, if it hadn't been for you I wouldn't be getting help at all and we both know that."

"I still feel like a failed you."

"You didn't."

"I guess I just wish I could be the one to heal you. I wish…I wish I was enough for you."

Now he felt like a damned fool for saying all of that without being able to stop himself. Hadn't he already confessed enough of his feelings to the kid? It wasn't helping anything.

Spencer sighed. "Derek, I…I need you to understand something."

He clenched his teeth. He had said enough for one evening.

"Derek, I…" Spencer looked at him shyly. "Derek, I love you." He turned away immediately, as though he could no longer look the older man in the eyes. For Derek's part, he stood there frozen for a moment, letting the words sink in. He almost wanted to ask Spencer to repeat it – wasn't sure if he had heard correctly.

"You…you do?" it was all he could manage.

"Yes," Spencer raised a hand and buried his face in it, tears evident in his voice. "That's part of the reason I have to go to West Virginia."

Derek wasn't sure, but he had his suspicions about what Spencer was telling him. He captured the kid lightly by the shoulders and turned him back around, Spencer still hiding his face, refusing to meet his eyes. "You need to get away from me?"

"Yes…no…I…" he lowered his hand. "I don't need to get away from you. I need to prove I _can be_ away from you."

Derek reached up, running a hand through Spencer's wet hair and capturing his cheek. "Spencer…"

"I want to be with you, Derek. I do. I just…I just need to know that I'm doing it for the right reasons. That _you're _doing it for the right reasons. I need to know that you don't want to be with me just because you want to save me, and that I don't want to be with you just because it's the only place…the only place I feel safe."

Derek ran his thumb over the younger man's cheek. "Spencer, that's _not_ why I want to be with you."

Spencer nodded. "I…I believe you. I _want_ to believe you. I just need to be sure." He met Derek's eyes with a tearful gaze. "My whole life I've had an addiction to something…first cutting, then Dilaudid, then cutting again. Finally I feel like I've found something else that makes me feel good. I just…I have to know that this is real, and not just…not just another addiction."

"If you're addicted to me, then I'm addicted to you just as much."

Spencer pushed his hand away. "You know what I mean, Derek. If we're together, I want it to be because we love each other for who we are. I want us to be on even ground. I don't want to have to depend on you, and I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me."

"I will _always_ want to take care of you, baby boy."

"I just," he blinked away tears. "I just need to get better. On my own. I can't depend on you and then fall down again if that's taken away."

"I swear I'm not going to leave you."

Spencer shook his head. "You can't promise that. And that's _not _because I think you're lying about your feelings for me. We work in a dangerous job, Derek." He reached out and traced the edge of the gauze bandage on the older agent's neck. "What if next time you're not so lucky? What if you're taken away from me?"

Derek captured Spencer's hand in his own. "You can't think like that."

"I can't afford not to. Please…please tell me you understand. I need to learn to stand on my own two feet. It's the only way we can be together. The only way I won't second-guess myself and what we have."

"I do understand, kiddo. I do. If you want to go to West Virginia I support you one hundred percent. I just need you to know something."

"What's that?"

"When you come home I'm going to be waiting for you." He reached out and captured Spencer's face lightly in his hands, drawing him close and placing a chaste kiss on the younger man's lips. Spencer's hands curled around Derek's and they stood there, breath mingling, eyes taking each other in.

"Please stay," Derek whispered. "Just stay tonight. And let me be the one to drive you to West Virginia."

Spencer opened his mouth but no words came out.

"Nothing has to happen tonight, pretty boy. I swear that to you. Please just…just let me hold you."

Spencer nodded his head ever so slightly. "Okay," he whispered.

"Okay." He stepped back but kept one hand tightly on Spencer's, intertwining their fingers. "Then let's get you dried off and go to bed."

x x x x x

The storm had diminished to a light shower, raindrops tapping lightly on the glass. Derek felt himself being lulled to sleep by the sound, intermingled with Spencer's breathing. The kid was curled up tight to Derek's chest, his head tucked under the older man's chin.

If Derek had thought three days was a long time, then three months was going to feel like forever – the longest three months of his entire life. But it would all be worth it in the end.

Spencer stirred slightly and Derek shushed him, rubbing lazy circles on the kid's back until he calmed once more.

Even while Spencer was away from him, Derek was not going to let him face this alone. Even if Spencer didn't want Derek to protect him and take care of him that was just too bad…that was something that wasn't ever going to change.

And three months from now Derek planned to prove that every day for the rest of their lives.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Derek had made Spencer three promises when he left him at the hospital in West Virginia, 5 very long weeks ago: he wouldn't visit; he wouldn't call; and he would be there waiting when Spencer was ready to come home. The third promise was easy. The first two he agreed to through clenched teeth and only because the younger man refused to get out of the car otherwise.

He understood that this was something the kid had to do on his own, and he respected the Hell out of him for finally taking his health into his own hands and getting help, but when Spencer had told him he would be gone for three months Derek hadn't realized he meant _gone completely_.

It was the first time in years Derek recalled enduring more than a handful of days without at least hearing Spencer's voice. It was bizarre and unsettling. It was absolutely agony.

He threw himself into his work, rejoining the team as soon as he had medical clearance, but still much sooner than Hotch would have preferred. He ignored his boss's reprimands. He had to do something…_anything_…to get his mind off of Spencer Reid, and tracking down maniacs was a fairly solid distraction. At least, it should have been.

A particularly brutal set of murders took them to San Francisco for a week, hunting a group of unsubs who were preying on families, and the team was more than a little sleep-deprived when they finally closed the case and caught a red-eye back to Quantico late on a Saturday night. This was the kind of case Derek relished, as horrible as it was. He needed something that exhausted him beyond the point of coherent thought.

He barely managed to strip out of his clothes and collapse onto his bed before he was dead to the world, the glint of the rising sun just beginning to light his bedroom. He threw the covers over his head and let sleep consume him.

When he heard his cell phone vibrating on the bedside table he was convinced it was part of a dream. He crept a hand out from underneath the blankets and fumbled around until he found the offending device, dragging it back into the darkness and flipping it open. "Morgan," he ground out.

The sound of hitched breathing on the other end of the line immediately jolted him awake and upright, his eyes blinking hard in light. "Spencer?" he asked, his heart in his throat.

He heard nothing but ragged breaths for a moment until, finally, "Derek?" the voice was barely audible, but it was definitely Spencer's.

"What's going on, baby boy?" Derek demanded, forcing himself to keep his voice low and controlled. "What happened?"

"Derek I…" another shuddering breath, "I can't do this anymore."

Derek rubbed his eyes, determined to rid himself of grogginess and try to think at least somewhat rationally. "What happened, baby?" he asked.

"N-nothing. I just…this isn't working. Nothing's working. I want to come home. Will you…will you come get me?"

Derek imagined himself running downstairs and jumping in the car, gunning it all the way to Spencer and holding the kid in his arms for the first time in weeks. He fisted a hand in the sheets to keep himself from leaping to his feet. "Spencer," he said. "If you really want me to come pick you up, you know I will. I won't hesitate. But I want to make sure you're thinking clearly." He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. "It's 6:15 in the morning. Have you been up all night?"

"Y-yes."

"Does anyone know you're calling me?"

"I…um…I snuck into the nurse's office. Her shift doesn't start until 8."

Derek sighed. "Kiddo, you need to tell me what's going on. Are they not treating you well there?"

"No…I mean…they are. I just…I want to come home."

The plea broke his heart and again he had to stop himself from throwing on clothes and racing for the door. "I need you think really hard about this, Spencer. Are they helping you at all? Are things getting better? If you come home before you're ready we're going to have to find another solution and you know that."

He could hear breathy sobs through the phone. "It's just…really hard. And I keep thinking about…about my mom."

"You're not her, Spencer. You know that."

"I just want to be with you."

Now Derek was sure he was going to start crying as well. "I want that too, baby boy. I really do. I can't even put into words how much I miss you. But if you come home before you're ready, you'll regret it. You know you will."

There was a moment of silence before Spencer replied in a quavering voice, "I know."

"You can do this, baby. I know you can. I'm so proud of you…of how strong you've been."

"I don't feel very strong right now."

"You're having a bad moment. It's okay. It happens to everyone. Just know that I'm here. Even if I'm not with you I'm thinking about you every day, all the time. You know that right?"

"Yeah…I think about you all the time too."

"As much as I want you to come home, I don't think it's a good idea right now, and I think you know that."

"I know…I'm sorry."

"There's nothing you have to be sorry for."

"I don't…I don't really want to leave. I'm not ready yet."

Derek closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "I know, sweetheart. But when you are ready I'm going to drive like a maniac to come pick you up. Sirens blaring, the whole nine."

Spencer managed a tearful laugh. "I'm sure Hotch would love that."

"Would be totally worth him giving me grief, I promise you."

"You don't have to break the speed limit or put the sirens on. Just…be here when I'm ready to come home."

"A pack of wild unsubs couldn't keep me away."

Another laugh.

"Feeling better kiddo?"

"A little…yeah. I'm sorry for flipping out. I know you're right."

"Hey, you're the one who made the decision to check yourself in, and you're the one who will know when you're ready to come home. I know that. And I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." Derek could imagine him blushing on the other side of the line.

"Spencer…I know you want to do this by yourself. And I understand why. But there's no reason you have to isolate yourself, especially not from me. I'll always be here for you, baby. And I'll keep proving that over and over until you believe it."

"I think…I think I'm starting to."

"Good. Now get out of that nurse's office before you get in trouble."

Spencer laughed again, and Derek's heart warmed picturing the beautiful smile on the kid's face.

"I love you, Derek."

"I love you too, kiddo. I can't wait to see you. But I'll wait as long as it takes. I'll wait forever for you."

"I promise it won't be that long."

_It will just feel that way, _Derek thought as he hung up the phone. Every moment away from Spencer was an eternity.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

_Warning: Mild sexual content._

* * *

><p>Derek was so nervous his body was practically vibrating. He tried to act casual, leaning against the car with his arms across his chest, but really he was just trying to keep himself as still as possible and hold his excitement in.<p>

It had been 104 days since he had last seen Spencer, and that was about 103 days too long. After the early morning call he had received, the kid had only called him 3 more times. The last of which, at 10 am this very morning, had been a request to come pick him up.

The doctor was signing off on a clean bill of health, and Spencer was finally being sent home.

Derek was there – just as he promised he would be. But it had been over 3 months since he and Spencer had last seen each other, and they had spoken less than a handful of times. Yes, they had both made their feelings clear, but Spencer was better now. Did that mean his feelings for Derek had changed as well? Did the kid only rely on him as a form of security? This was one of the reasons Spencer had decided to go to West Virginia, Derek knew. He had to find out if he could stand on his own two feet.

Derek was proud of him. He _wanted_ that for him. But if Spencer now had the strength to walk away from him, and chose to do so, he knew his heart would break.

The glint of the sun on the sliding glass doors blocked his view and every time someone walked out of the building Derek's heart would leap into his throat, and then settle back down into his chest once more in disappointment. He clenched and unclenched his hands around his arms. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this nervous – about anything.

Finally, _finally_, the doors opened and a tall, thin young man in jeans and a blue button down walked out, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and eyes hidden by dark glasses. Spencer's hair was longer than Derek remembered, chestnut curls falling almost to his shoulders. Derek didn't have a question in his mind that his feelings toward Spencer would remain the same while he was away, but now that the kid was in front of him he realized just how much he had truly missed him.

He pushed himself off the car and began walking toward Spencer slowly, tentatively, not able to keep the smile off his face. Spencer saw him approaching and a hint of a grin tugged at his lips.

Then, suddenly, the younger man was running toward him, and Derek couldn't help but follow suit. They met at the curb and Spencer had barely dropped his bag to the pavement before he pounced into Derek's arms, straddling his waist and winding his arms around the agent's neck.

Their lips met without a word spoken between them, and Derek felt relief rush over him. He held the younger man close, returning his embrace and his kisses with fervor.

Spencer began to slip from his arms and Derek lowered him gently back down to the ground, his hands seeking purchase in the soft curls of his hair. He was aware that there were a few people passing by, but he didn't pay them any mind. No one else in the world mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, Derek reached up and removed Spencer's glasses, meeting his hazel brown eyes. "I missed you, kid," he murmured.

Spencer smiled, and it was no longer tinged with hidden pain or fear but was genuine, and it made his whole face light up the way that Derek always pictured him. "I missed you too."

"Are you ready to go home, pretty boy?" Derek asked. They both knew that home had entirely different meaning now. It was no longer a place; it was each other.

"Yes," Spencer breathed, leaning in close for another kiss. "Oh, yes."

End


End file.
